One day
by purpleone
Summary: Charles and Molly meet in different circumstances. This is their story told on one day, each year for 20 years.
1. Chapter 1

**So this time, I'm taking a book I recently re-read for the first time in years and adapting it for a Charles and Molly story. I think it will work well for them. Hope you enjoy!**

 **All rights to Tony Grounds and the BBC for the characters and David Nicholls for the 'One Day' idea.**

 **Friday 15 July 1999**

 _Rankeillor Street, Edinburgh_

"I suppose the important thing is to make some sort of difference," she says. "You know, actually change somethin'."

"What, like 'change the world', you mean?"

"Not the entire world. Just the little bit around you."

They lay in silence for a moment, facing each other in the single bed. She can't quite believe that after four years of fancying him rotten from afar, that she actually has Charles James half-naked in her bed. She's conscious that she's talking because she's nervous and lacking confidence in her bedroom abilities. Whilst she's not a virgin, she's not slept with anyone in her whole time at uni, preferring to concentrate on her studies. In fact, she's never actually been in bed with a man as her teenage sexual encounters were more of the completely unfulfilling 'quick shag behind the Indian takeaway' variety.

She's desperately trying to make herself relax but can't stop talking and fidgeting. Since meeting at the graduation party eight hours ago, they've been inseparable; talking, drinking and kissing in equal measure. It's now 4am and they've made it as far as the bed, in her bedroom, in her shared student house. She's only wearing her bra and knickers and he's in his boxers. As much as she wants to just be done with it and sleep with him, she also wants this night to go on forever. She is worried that as soon as they have sex, that he will be out of there and gone from her life. She knows he is completely out of her league.

"So, what are you goin' to do next, Charles? Do you have yer life mapped out?"

He's stroking her hair and placing gentle kisses on her face and shoulders as he teases her bra strap down her arm.

"Well, first I'm going to remove your bra…."

She's squirms away from him, "I'm serious, what comes next for you after uni?"

He sighs and props himself up on his arm, "Do you always talk this much, Dawesy?"

She smiles shyly at him. She loves how he has come up with a nickname for her after just a few hours together. She marvels at how he exudes natural confidence. She figures it is easy to be that confident when you are so bleeding good-looking.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a bit nervous."

"It's ok, it's important to know who you're sleeping with."

"You're a bit previous there, mate. As far as I remember, we haven't actually slept together."

He leans forward and kisses her deeply on the lips, looking at her intently with his beautiful dark brown eyes.

"Are you tempted?"

She feels her stomach doing flips, but she also realises that she really needs the loo and can't possibly have sex until after she has relieved herself.

She gives him a quick kiss, and moves to get up, "Hold that thought, I just need to go pee."

He sighs again, "Right, lovely."

She drags herself out of the bed, grabbing at her graduation gown to cover herself up as she self-consciously walks across the room and out into the corridor to go the bathroom.

She's sat on the toilet and giving herself a serious talking to. She, Molly Dawes, actually has Charles James, the man of her dreams in her bed and she's jabbering away and delaying things. She needs to pull herself together, walk back in there, get into bed and get on with it.

She opens the door and sticks her leg out in what she hopes is a seductive but also funny way. She leans her body around the door and looks over towards the bed. She's deeply disappointed to realise that he's snoring quietly. She creeps over to the bed and slips in awkwardly beside him and whispers "Charles." It's obvious that he's now fast asleep and just as she's cursing her stupidity and shitting bad luck, he reaches out his arm and pulls her close into him. She finds herself relaxing into his strong, muscular body, surprised at how perfectly she fits into his embrace. As much as she wants to enjoy this feeling, she feels sleep coming to her too and quickly drifts off.

-x-

He wakes in an unfamiliar room, cuddling an unfamiliar but very pleasing body. In his hungover state, it takes him a few seconds to remember the night before; kissing and talking with Molly at the party and then making it back to her house. He doesn't remember having sex with her and a quick check confirms that he hasn't. Shit, did he actually fall asleep before sleeping with her?

He wonders why he hasn't really noticed her before last night; he knows he has seen her in lectures and at a few parties, but Christ, he thought she was called Polly before yesterday. He supposes that their circles have been quite different; when he's not been studying, he's spent time playing sport and in the University Officers' Training Corps. Looking around her bedroom, she appears to be more in the Amnesty International, DMs and Brit pop camp.

They were kind of thrown together at the graduation party by their respective friends, by nature of both being the recipients of Firsts in their English Language degrees. His being quite a surprise because he really hadn't put a huge amount of effort into his academic studies, already knowing that he was going to pursue a career in the Army after uni and a degree just being his passport to a place at Sandhurst. On the other hand, he got the impression that Molly had worked hard for her degree; she certainly seemed to be very proud of it, having told him that she was the first person in her family to ever go to uni, let alone get a First.

When they'd first started chatting at the party, he'd done so mostly out of politeness but as they had got talking he'd found himself really enjoying her company. The booze had been flowing well and eventually they'd started kissing. He's had plenty of girlfriends; he knows he's good-looking and has no problem attracting women but there was something refreshingly different about her. She's quite unlike the well-groomed and frankly high maintenance girls he usually attracts. She's clearly from a different social background, her self-proclaimed difficult East End upbringing sounding a million miles away from his privileged and comfortable childhood in Bath. Not that background has ever been important to him in choosing friends, something his parents had distilled into him from an early age.

He had liked how she had teased him and joked with him a lot in between their kissing; it had made him engage his brain far more than usual. Although he desperately wanted to sleep with her, he knew he couldn't take it for granted and rather annoyingly it seems that he was right.

He checks the time, 8.30am, and contemplates getting up but decides against it as it really is very comfortable lying in bed cuddling a sleeping Molly. Before long he dozes off again.

-x-

She wakes and carefully extracts herself from the bed. Her tongue feels furry and her mouth is dry. She's clammy and sweaty and knows that she will look a complete hungover mess. There is no way she can let Charles see her in this state. Before she leaves the bedroom, she sneaks a look at him and can't quite believe how perfect he is, even after a night of boozing and little sleep. His gorgeous face is sporting a day-old stubble and his hair is beautifully bed tousled.

She turns on the shower and sits on the toilet where she is dismayed to discover that her bleeding period is just starting. She lets out a frustrated groan at the unfairness of life. She cleans her teeth three times, showers, shaves her armpits and legs, washes and conditions her hair and heads back into her room feeling much better. She notes he's still asleep and she quickly dresses in her best underwear, her favourite flowery dress and denim jacket, coupled with her beloved DMs. She sits on the side of the bed and kisses him gently, "Wakey-time."

-x-

He'd awoken to find the bed empty and the sound of the shower running. For some unknown reason, he pretended to be asleep when she came back into the room to get dressed and he took the opportunity to sneakily watch her as she got ready. He found himself getting quite aroused by the sight of her perfect body and breasts, and long luscious brown hair. Eventually she'd kissed him with a ludicrously jolly "Wakey-time."

He responds by pulling her towards him, deepening her kiss. He feels her pull back slightly, and he releases her, "You alright?"

She seems embarrassed, "Yes, I'm fine. I wondered if you'd like to do something today."

"I know what I'd like to do."

He's disappointed that she ignores his comment and continues, "Maybe we could go for a walk or something, have a picnic."

He's not sure what has changed, but she doesn't seem to be into him in the same way as she was last night and in the early hours of the morning. He wonders if he should just call it quits, make some excuse and leave now, but there is something about the way she is looking at him with her beautiful big, green eyes that he can't refuse.

"Ok. But only if you promise to tell me how you're going to 'change the world'."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for your lovely comments on chapter 1... here goes chapter 2... please let me know what you think!**

 **Saturday 15 July 2000**

 _Newham, East London_

Here she is on the first anniversary of her graduation, the first anniversary of the start of the rest of her life, the first anniversary of the day she finally spoke to Charles James. Here she is, back where she started in a council flat in sodding Newham.

She had so much expectation in that summer after graduating. She'd decided to stay in Edinburgh and armed with her First class honours degree in English Language had visions of conquering the literary world by Christmas. She knew she wanted to be an author and spent the summer attempting to write her first book.

The book hadn't been going very well but she'd written plenty of long emails to Charles and had received several beautifully written old-fashioned letters in return. His letters were full of adventure as he spent a month travelling in India, at the expense of his parents. Hers were more about her quest to become the next Jane Austen and surviving on the bread-line.

Towards the end of the summer upon his return, he'd invited her to stay at his parents house in Bath for a couple of days. Initially, she'd refused because the truth was that she couldn't afford the rail-fare, but he'd sent her the cash and begged her to come and visit, to save him from parental scrutiny.

She'd travelled down on the train, bursting with excitement about seeing him again. She'd been completely over-awed by his family home, an enormous Georgian mansion on Royal Crescent, one of the most exclusive addresses in Bath. She had never seen anything as beautiful and felt completely out of her depth, immediately remembering how out of her league he really was and how different their worlds were.

His parents had been nothing but kind and welcoming to her, but she managed to ruin things by letting her nerves get the better of her and getting completely wasted on pre-dinner gin and tonics on the first night. By the time dinner had been served at a ridiculously late time of around 9pm she was very drunk and had ended up arguing with his father and being incredibly rude about his Conservative middle-class politics.

The rest of the night was hazy, but she'd awoken the next morning in one of the many guest bedrooms fully clothed and alone, with a head that felt like it was going to explode. She'd been sick several times before she managed to make it downstairs at around midday. She'd found the house deserted and a note from Charles telling her to make herself comfortable and that they'd gone out to some of his parent's friends to play tennis and have lunch and would be back later on in the afternoon. In her hungover state, she'd completely forgotten the invitation had been extended to her the previous day.

By the time they'd returned, she was feeling a bit better physically, but was mortified at her behaviour the previous night and for missing the day's activities. It was made worse by the fact that his parents continued to be kind to her and he seemed to find the whole thing hugely amusing. Charles had made plans to take her out to dinner, but she'd felt so awkward in his company that she'd suggested they just stay-in instead and watch TV, because at least she wouldn't have to make too much conversation. They spent the evening sober and he'd cuddled her on the sofa, as friends might, but nothing more had happened and she'd gone to bed feeling disappointed and cross at herself for messing things up. When she'd left the following day, he'd kissed her on the cheek briefly and promised to write from Africa where he was heading off to volunteer in a refugee camp for six months.

By the time the new students came back in September she was already feeling out of touch with her previous life. It turned out it wasn't much fun staying on in your old university city after all your friends had left.

By early November, she had run out of money and had reluctantly admitted defeat, moving back to London and into her childhood home. It was completely impossible to even contemplate writing in the chaos of the Dawes household, with 5 younger siblings and her perpetually bickering parents. There was never any peace or quiet and she had no personal space, sharing a room with her younger sister Bella. Her parents were clear that she couldn't live with them without contributing to the family budget and she reluctantly took a job at a local nail bar. In fact, it was the same nail bar she had worked at as a teenager and it was as though university had never happened. She felt like a complete and utter failure.

She'd seen in the new millennium with her family and old friends at the Earl of Wakefield, the local boozer, where she'd taken a second job. Despite being surrounded by people she'd known all her life, she had never felt more miserable and alone.

She'd continued to receive letters from Charles but she'd found it harder and harder to put pen to paper in return as the months had gone by, her life boring and uninspiring compared with his.

They'd met up in April when he'd visited London to attend a university friend's birthday party at the RAC club. He'd invited her to attend as his plus one and although she had initially said yes, she'd bottled it on the day because she was too overawed by the venue and the thought of hanging out with his smart, posh friends. It didn't help that she had nothing to wear and really couldn't afford to buy a new outfit that she would probably never have chance to wear again. Of course she hadn't told him any of that but made up an excuse about having to work at the pub, which was at least partly true after she'd volunteered to work an additional shift.

Instead, they'd spent the following day together pretending to be tourists, taking an open-top bus around the sights. They'd laughed a lot about her disastrous visit to Bath and she'd thoroughly enjoyed hearing his stories about his time in Africa. The day had been perfect, but he'd not tried to kiss her or be intimate with her in any way. She reluctantly accepted that he just didn't feel that way about her and that their relationship was destined to be one of friendship only.

She's not seen him since then, as he started Officer Cadet Training at Sandhurst in May. He's called her a couple of times, but she knows that his course is full-on and he doesn't have much in the way of spare time.

 _Sandhurst, Berkshire_

He wakes early, wanting to make the most of his first free weekend off base since starting his Officer Cadet Training. He knows he should really be going to visit his parents in Bath, but there is only one person he wants to go and spend his free time with.

He is loving Sandhurst, as he always knew he would. If he'd had his way he would have started the training straight after finishing university but his parents had insisted that he take some time out to travel before committing himself to the Army. He knows they're concerned about the high likelihood of him facing active service upon gaining his Commission and had hoped that some travel might make him change his mind about his choice of career. They'd really wanted him to go travelling for a year but he'd compromised on a month in India and then a six month VSO role in Africa.

He's arranged to travel up to London with his new best friend Elvis, who is going to visit his family in Essex for the weekend. They've formed a close bond during the first few weeks of training, although their friendship might appear slightly unlikely from the outside. Elvis is continually testing the boundaries of the rules and regulations of Army life, whereas he's known for being an firm advocate of the very same rules and regulations. Elvis is loud and cocky, but hugely likeable whereas he is confident but quieter and less of an extrovert. Elvis comes from a large, emotional Italian family, whereas he is an only child from a warm but conservative English family. What brought them together and galvanised their friendship in the beginning was a mutual dislike of one of their fellow recruits, John McClyde, known to everyone as Bones. From the start of training, Bones showed himself to be an arrogant and intolerant cadet, with a habit of bullying anyone he perceives as not being up to the job. Annoyingly, he also appears to be a highly competent soldier and seems to have taken a mutual dislike to Charles in particular.

They've been on the train for all of five minutes and Elvis is already chatting up a pretty girl.

He smiles to himself and thinks about his girl. Except she isn't technically his girl and if he's honest, he's doesn't really know if she feels that way about him. Over the last year their relationship has developed, but not in entirely the way he had hoped it would.

They've mostly got to know each other through letter writing and calls. Due to his travelling and training, the opportunities to meet up in person have been limited and not entirely successful.

There was the disastrous visit to his parent's house, which she had sabotaged quite spectacularly by getting rip-roaringly drunk on the first night, insulting his bemused father in the process before throwing herself at him as he'd carried her upstairs to put her to bed. It had taken all of his self-restraint to not respond to her amorous advances, knowing that he would be taking advantage of her inebriated state. She'd been fairly cross with him at the time, right up until she had passed out on the guest bed still fully clothed. He'd been quite worried about her and had stayed with her, sleeping on the floor, until the morning, leaving before she woke up to spare her embarrassment.

She'd had the hangover from hell the following day which meant she'd barely been able to function and it was obvious that she had no recollection of the previous night or it seemed, in the cold light of day, any desire to be with him in that way. She'd turned down going out to dinner with him and instead they'd spent an evening watching TV together. He'd found it agonising to be so close to her and had been desperate to kiss her, but she'd been so uncommunicative and distant that he'd lost his nerve and settled for cuddling her instead.

He still feels responsible for letting her get quite so drunk; in truth he'd been enjoying seeing her so unreserved and had only realised too late that she had tipped over the edge. Despite her performance, his parents were as enchanted by her as he is and have not stopped asking about her.

The last time he saw her was in London. He'd had high hopes that they might get together at the party and finally have the chance to spend a proper night together. He'd taken the liberty of booking them a smart hotel near the party and had been bitterly disappointed when she'd cancelled on the day, saying she had to work instead. He'd tried to persuade her, but she'd told him in no uncertain terms that she didn't have the luxury of his wealth and couldn't afford to lose her job. He'd been a bit hurt that she had thrown that at him, but knew that she was finding things quite difficult being back at home, so hadn't made a big deal of it. They'd spent the following day together, which had flown by far too quickly as far as he was concerned. He loved spending time with her and tried to tell himself that if friendship was all that was on offer, that he would have to be happy with that.

-x-

He's feeling quite nervous as he walks up the front door of her parent's house. Back at Sandhurst, it seemed like a great idea to surprise her on their 'anniversary'. It now occurs to him that she might not think of today in the same way. It also occurs to him that she might not be too delighted at him just turning up on her doorstep unannounced like this.

The place she grew up in is exactly like she has described and he is struck by just how different their lives have been. Although they've talked about this, seeing the reality gives him a better understanding of how much she has already achieved and how hard she has worked for everything. He feels pretty shallow in comparison, having taken for granted and benefited from the best education money can buy and the opportunities that come with wealth and privilege.

He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door which is opened by an unshaven, overweight, scruffy looking middle aged man wearing a dirty t-shirt and his underpants. He knows instantly that this is her father, Dave, again exactly as she has described him even down to the underpants. He'd not completely believed her when she'd said this was his normal look and that he had no qualms about answering the door or standing on the their balcony smoking in his pants much to the shame of the rest of the family.

"Mr Dawes? Charles James, nice to meet you."

"Eh?"

"I'm a friend of Molly's. Perhaps she's mentioned me?"

"No, she bleedin' aint. Suppose you're one of 'er 'university' friends?"

He doesn't like the way Dave said 'university' as though it was a dirty word. She had said that her father wasn't supportive of her decision to go to university but again he'd thought she was exaggerating. He couldn't really fathom how a parent wouldn't be proud of their child's achievements.

Dave doesn't make any attempt to invite him in but just yells in the general direction of the stairs before wandering back into the house, "Molls, come downstairs. There's some posh twat 'ere at the door for you"

He hears a woman's voice from somewhere inside the house, "Who's at the door Dave?".

The woman, who is almost certainly Molly's mum comes to the door and gives him a kindly smile, "Ooh, 'ello."

"Hello, Mrs Dawes? Charles James, I'm a friend of Molly's."

She extends her hand in a slightly awkward way and he shakes it, "Oh, nice to meet you Charles, come in. Please call me Belinda." She beckons him inside towards what he assumes is the living room, "Apologies for me 'usband's lack of manners. Scuse the mess, haven't got around to tidying yet this morning."

Belinda indicates for him to sit down and he has just settled when Molly comes into the room. She stops dead in her tracks looking absolutely horrified to see him and he fears he has made the wrong call coming here, "What the bleedin' hell are you doin' here?"

He stands up and attempts to make a joke, "Hello and nice to see you is more of a traditional welcome..."

Belinda is the next to speak, "Scuse me, I need to see to somethin' in the kitchen." She leaves them alone, closing the door behind her.

He's caught off guard when seconds later she bursts into tears. He's never seen this side of her before and initially isn't sure how to respond. Pulling himself together, it takes him just a couple of strides to close the distance between them and he's enveloping her in a hug.

It feels so good to be hugging her again, "Hey, don't cry Dawesy."

She pulls away, seemingly embarrassed at her show of emotion, "I'm sorry. I'm a total prannet. It's just a bit of a surprise seeing you here... today of all days."

"Well, it is our anniversary."

She looks surprised, "You remembered?"

"Of course I remembered... I thought perhaps we could celebrate?"

"What did you 'ave in mind?"

"How about a picnic in Hyde Park...", he dramatically takes an envelope from his pocket, "and tickets for the open air Shakespeare?"

She squeals with delight, "Oh, Charles. I would bleedin' love that."

-x-

She's sat hugging her knees, intently watching the play whilst he's intently watching her. He dearly wants to lean over and kiss her, but she's enjoying the performance too much and he doesn't want to spoil the moment. They've had a great time today, falling back easily into their friendship and playful banter. As soon as the play is finished he'll make his move.

It's during the final scene that he feels the first drops of rain and as the curtain falls it's becoming torrential, one of those summer evening storms which leave you drenched to the skin. All hopes of kissing her evaporate as they frantically start gathering up their stuff and running towards the tube.

They make it to the tube and he's pretty annoyed that his romantic plans have been ruined whilst she's finding the whole thing completely hilarious, giggling uncontrollably.

"What's so bloody funny?"

"St. Swithin's Day."

"What?"

"Thought you were well educated? Well, today is St. Swithin's day.

 _St. Swithin's day if thou dost rain_

 _For forty days it will remain_

 _St. Swithin's day if thou be fair_

 _For forty days 'twill rain nae mair_."

"Right. So it's going to rain for 40 days? That's going to make training pretty bloody miserable."

"Don't be such a grumpy arse."

-x-

Later, he's lying uncomfortably on the sofa in the Dawes' living room, trying to get to sleep, feeling incredibly frustrated that once again nothing has happened between them. When they'd got back to the house, her mood had changed and she had become distant. She'd thanked him for a lovely day, made sure he had everything he needed and had excused herself and gone to bed. After a year of missed opportunities and false starts, he's going to have to accept that it is just not meant to be. He tries to tell himself that it is probably for the best to not to be getting romantically involved with her, or with anyone at the moment. His training is intense and a long-distance relationship will be tricky once he gets his Commission. Yes, having her friendship will have to be enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sunday 15 July 2001**

 _Camden Town, London_

Molly is only half listening as Artan, the slimy restaurant manager, briefs the assembled staff in advance of the Sunday lunchtime shift. She bleedin' hates working at Loco Caliente, a Tex-Mex restaurant on the Kentish Town Road, but the tips are good and she gets free food. Admittedly, she does have to make sure she is not caught alone with Artan, who has wandering hands and a habit of looking at her as though he'd like to get her naked.

She's finally saved enough money to move out of her parent's house and is renting a tiny room from a lovely girl called Jackie. The room only fits a single bed, wardrobe and small desk but it is her own space and she values it highly. Jackie's a student nurse, so basically works shifts and sleeps which means the place is quiet most of the time.

She's managed to finish a draft of her novel, but isn't having any luck finding a publisher who will even take the time to read it. She's had countless letters of rejection and she's thoroughly disheartened by the whole process.

She is brought back to the present by Artan, "Molly, are you listening to me?"

"Erm, sorry Artan. Must have drifted off there. Were you sayin' somethin' about the specials?"

"No, I was saying we have a new recruit, Dylan Smith, starting today and I'd like you to keep an eye on him and show him the ropes."

Dylan gives the assembled group a cocky smile, "Alright, tossers! You can call me Smurf."

Artan seems completely thrown by the arrogance of the new recruit. She can't help smirking because anything that makes Artan uncomfortable has to be a good thing in her book. Judging by his accent, he's Welsh and she reckons he's about her age. He's not good-looking in the way Charles is, but he's certainly not unattractive. He's clearly got some personality, which this place desperately needs, and she likes him right away.

"Er, right... Smurf, I'll hand you over to Molly, our longest serving member of staff."

"Ok Artan, but you 'aven't forgotten that I'm finishin' early today. I 'ave to be out of here by 4pm."

"Yes, yes, of course."

She looks over at Dylan, "Come on then, I'll give you the guided tour. It won't take long."

"So, longest serving member of staff. How long is that then?"

"Seven months, twenty-four eight hour shifts a month, so I make that around 1,344 hours give or take..."

"Wow. You must shittin' love it here..."

She laughs and wonders, and certainly not for the first time, exactly what the hell she is doing with her life.

 _Aldershot, Hampshire_

Charles stifles a yawn and surreptitiously glances at the clock on the wall of the guard house. One more hour to go until he is off duty. He's been granted a pass to head off-base for the evening and frankly can't wait. It's been a bastard of a week out on Salisbury Plain on overnight exercises and then topped off with one of his least favourite tasks, supervising guard duty.

He gained his Commission in April, eventually passing out top of his intake and being awarded the Sword of Honour during the Sovereign's Parade ceremony. Although it was a huge honour and achievement to be given this prestigious award, it was slightly tinged with controversy as he wasn't exactly the intended recipient.

Throughout the Commissioning course, he and Bones had both been consistently at the top of their intake in all exercises and assessments but unbeknown to him, Bones had been given the nod that he would be getting the Sword of Honour. Bones had gone out to celebrate, returned to base drunk and mouthed off at one of the gate guards. He'd been on duty that night and had included details of the altercation in his duty report. As a result Bones had been stripped of the Sword of Honour and it was awarded to him instead. Not surprisingly Bones held him responsible for the loss of the award and had made it very well known that he was despised because of it. After passing out, Bones had chosen to go for Special Forces selection and he was hopeful that their paths would not cross again.

He'd been delighted that Molly had accepted his invitation to attend his passing out. She'd needed a bit of persuading, particularly because his parents would obviously be there, but he'd convinced her that they would be upset if she didn't attend on their account. As it was, she had got on famously with them on the day and his mother is now convinced more than ever that Molly's the girl for him, despite his protests that 1) she doesn't think of him in that way and 2) she's not his normal type. He knows that reason 2 is exactly why both he and his him like Molly so much.

Passing out was also the first time Molly and Elvis had met. There had been a couple of other opportunities for this to happen during officer training, but he'd been actively avoiding introducing them for as long as possible. He'd worked hard over the past year to lock away his true feelings for Molly, and had consciously referred to her as his 'best friend' when talking to Elvis. As much as he likes Elvis, he was a tad worried that he would try and hit on Molly. Although he's come to terms with the fact that he can't be with her how he wants, the last thing he needed was Elvis pulling her. Thankfully, despite Elvis' best efforts, Molly didn't seem remotely interested in anything more than joining forces with Elvis to gang up on him and take the piss wherever possible.

He's now joined an infantry regiment and as a Second Lieutenant he's completing further combat training. He's doing well and assuming everything goes to plan should be promoted to Lieutenant by this time next year. By a stroke of luck, both him and Elvis are now serving in the same regiment, although Elvis is also contemplating applying for Special Forces selection.

Since moving to Aldershot barracks, he's started to have a bit more of a social life again. Although he hasn't been actively looking for dates, being mates with Elvis inevitably involves being chatted up or chatting up girls. Whilst he is definitely not looking for a relationship, he has to admit that it feels good to have some female attention again after nearly two years of being celibate.

-x-

He's sat in the garden of the Red Lion wondering where Molly is as she's over an hour late now. He's bust a gut to get here on time, having been called into a meeting with Captain Beck just as he was coming to the end of his shift. In his rush to leave barracks he'd almost forgotten to pick-up the anniversary gift he's got for her. He'd been delighted when he'd found a first edition copy of Jane Austen's Emma in a little antique bookshop in Marlborough. He knew it was the perfect gift for her and hopes that it will bring a smile to her beautiful face and show her how much he cares about her. He knows she's not been having a great time, working in that shitty Mexican restaurant, being worn down by rejection letters from publishers. He doesn't feel like he's been the most attentive friend to her, but the last year has been physically and mentally demanding and he's had limited time or capacity for too much else.

"Hi Charles, fancy seeing you here!"

Shit, he recognises her as the girl he went home with a few weeks ago when he was pissed up with Elvis, "Oh, hi...erm"

"It's Charlotte. I never got your call after that night."

"I'm sorry, I, er, mislaid your number."

"Really? You could buy me a drink by way of apology."

"Well, actually I'm meant to be meeting someone... but they seem to be running late." He knows this probably isn't his best idea, but Molly isn't here yet and there isn't actually anything wrong with having a drink with another woman, "Of course, what can I get you?"

-x-

Just her shitting bad luck to be late leaving sodding work and then for the bleeding trains to be up the spout as well. She's now almost an hour and a half late for Charles. She knows he's on a curfew tonight and she'd suggested meeting near his barracks so they could maximise their time together. Talking with him regularly on the phone and spending snatched snippets of time with him is literally the only thing which keeps her going in her miserable existence. When she's with him it feels like she can achieve anything and it's his encouragement that led her to move out of home and finish her book. When they're apart she feels like she's sleepwalking through life. She'd dearly love to be able to spend more time with him, but his job is properly full-on. It sounds like he's doing really well and she is so proud that he's doing something that will make a difference to the world. At least one of them is.

She no longer fancies him. She now knows that she is one hundred percent in love with him. She wishes she had been braver and admitted her feelings back when they first met or even this last time year when he surprised her with his visit to her parent's house. Back then, she was just too conscious of the differences between them and saw them as an insurmountable barrier. Now she values her friendship with him far too much to risk it by doing anything silly like declaring her true feelings.

She runs the entire distance from the train station to the pub, arriving feeling hot and sweaty and cursing too many burritos and her general lack of fitness.

She heads to the garden and is stopped in her tracks by the sight of Charles chatting and laughing with a tall, pretty, blonde girl who is the carbon copy of his university days' 'type'.

She backs out of the garden, before he has a chance to see her, and starts walking away from the pub. She eventually comes to a stop by a bench and sits down heavily. Tears start falling down her cheeks and it's as though all the air has been knocked out of her lungs.

She knows she shouldn't be surprised that he's with someone; he's too good looking to be single. Although he's never talked about dating anyone, she knew it would happen sooner or later, but she'd never imagined it would happen on their anniversary. Most of all she'd hoped she'd be in a stronger emotional place to deal with it. She knows there is no way she can face an evening with him now and heads back towards the train and back to her shitty life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Monday 15 July 2002**

 _Camden Town, London_

"Right, listen up you lot. It's a new week and we've got the following specials..."

Molly knows the specials list off by heart, not that it is too bleeding difficult, being on a strict three week rotation. She sighs, zoning in and out of Artan's tedious briefing lost in her thoughts. It might be a new week, but it's another soddin' St. Swithin's Day which means another year of the 'rest of her life' has passed. Another year, where she has achieved precisely nothing, having abandoned her hopes of finding a publisher for her book.

She suspects she's actually clinically depressed. She's sleeping badly, has lost her appetite and all interest in her appearance. She finds herself crying at random times for no apparent reason.

Jackie has been a good friend to her, but is soon going to be moving to Bristol to take new job which means that she's going to become homeless as well. She knows things must be bad, because even her parents are concerned about her, having suggested on more than one occasion recently that she moves back home.

She knows Charles is worried about her too and she's been avoiding speaking to him, recently screening his calls and ignoring his text messages. In truth, she hasn't completely recovered from seeing him with another woman on their last anniversary, although he's never mentioned that he's seeing anyone and doesn't really act like a man with a girlfriend. With the benefit of hindsight she wonders if perhaps she jumped to the wrong conclusion about what she thought she saw, but has not had the courage to fess up and talk about what really happened that day.

She'd felt terrible afterwards because as well as bolting instead of facing him, she'd done the unthinkable and not even called him to apologise for standing him up. She'd gone home, hidden in her room and drunk a bottle of cheap vodka. She'd passed out and completely missed his increasingly frantic answerphone messages. When he'd not been able to get hold of her, he'd called her parents and she'd been awoken from her drunken stupor by her mum and dad banging on her door in the early hours of the morning. By the time he'd eventually tracked her down the next day at the restaurant, he'd been furious and completely lost his shit with her. He'd told her that he'd been worried sick when she hadn't showed up, told her that he knew she was having a tough time, that he was trying to be supportive but that she was too selfish and self-absorbed to appreciate it. She'd never known him react like that to anything before and their relationship had been strained for a while after.

It was a couple of weeks later that a parcel, containing a mobile phone, had arrived.

She'd turned it on to find a text message.

 _[Dawesy_

 _Now you have no excuse for ever standing me up again._

 _Love C x]_

The only good thing, other than her first mobile phone, to have come out of the last year is Smurf. Although he's a cocky tosser, he's a kind and funny cocky tosser and they've become firm friends at work, unified by a loathing of Artan and the restaurant. Smurf has suggested on numerous occasions that he would like more from their relationship but she's made it clear that they're only going to be mates. Whilst she likes Smurf a lot, she has absolutely no interest in sex with him. She's even stopped fantasising about Charles in that way, a sure sign that she's depressed.

Artan is coming to the end of his briefing, "Finally, this place needs a decent clean today. Smurf. You're on toilet cleaning duty."

"You're fuckin' kidding me Artan. Why do I always have to do fuckin' latrine clean?"

She looks at him sweetly, "Because you do it so _beautifully_ Smurf."

He swipes at her playfully with a tea-towel, "Ha, bloody ha, Molls. You're in so much trouble later."

Artan is looking at them distastefully, "And when you two have finished, Molly, I need to see you in my office."

As Artan walks away, she rolls her eyes because an encounter with Artan is just what she needs at this precise moment. Smurf is right beside her, "Shout if the slimy bastard tries anything. I'll save you Molls. You can count on me."

"Fuck-off you muppet. I can 'andle Artan."

She enters the office, which is actually the store room, carefully making sure that she leaves the door open.

"You wanted to see me Artan."

"Yes, I'll come straight to it. I've been promoted and I'm leaving. I'd like you to take over as manager."

"What?"

"I want someone who isn't going anywhere. Someone reliable who isn't going to run off without giving proper notice or drop it all for some exciting job. Someone I can rely onto stick around here for a couple of years and devote themselves to the place."

She's silenced by his words and she feels herself starting to cry. He wants someone who isn't going anywhere and he thinks she's just that person. The thought of spending another couple of years in this dump makes her heart sink.

"Are you crying? I'd expected you to be happy? This is a promotion, more money, you'll be the boss. You get your own office and to decide who cleans the toilets."

Shit, she realises he's coming towards her and looks like he's going to give her a hug. She quickly wipes her tears away and moves away from him and closer to the door, "Thanks. Can I think about it?"

He looks at her in a really creepy way, "I thought you'd be grateful. 24 hours Molly. I'll need to know in 24 hours."

-x-

She's sat in the staff locker room having a late lunch break, staring at the latest text message from Charles, sent a couple of days ago, which she still hasn't responded to.

 _[Dawesy. 2 days to go until our anniversary. We need a plan. Have news. I will come to you this time, so there is no way you can stand me up. C x]_

She knows she's left it too late to respond as he always needs a few days notice to arrange time off-base. Although she's been foolishly avoiding him, she would love nothing better than to spend some time in his company right now.

 _[Sorry. I know I've been a bit shit recently. At work now, speak later. Would love to hear your news. M x]_

She's just putting her phone back in her bag when it pings with a message.

[ _Well Dawesy. You are in luck. Get your arse out here now.]_

At that moment, Smurf puts his head around the door, "Molls, there some guy here to see you."

She gets up and runs past him and out into restaurant. Before she stops to think what she's doing, she's launched herself at his chest. As he gives her a surprised hug, she starts sobbing into his chest.

"Hey Dawsey."

As he hugs her and soothes her, he can't help but notice how thin she's become.

"Charles, I am so 'appy to see you."

After a little while she pulls away and attempts to make herself look more presentable.

His face is full of concern, "How long until the end of your shift and we can get out of here?"

She checks her watch, "Give me 'alf an 'our. 'ave a seat at the bar. Do you wanna risk a coffee or would you prefer a beer?"

"Great sales pitch Dawesy... I'll have a beer."

-x-

As it is a glorious evening, they've settled on a picnic on Primrose Hill. They're sitting close together, both feeling comfortable and relaxed in each other's company, enjoying the time away from their respective lives.

"So Dawesy... I got you an anniversary gift... Well actually, it is last year's anniversary gift that I never got the chance to give to you..."

"You know I'm sorry about that. Not me finest moment. Will you ever let me forget it?"

"Probably not."

She playfully punches him on the arm as he holds his hands up in surrender, "I'm joking. I'm joking. You know you don't have to keep apologising. It is in the past."

He hands her a beautifully wrapped package which she examines, "You know I 'aven't got you anythin'."

He's laughing at her, "You never get me anything Dawesy."

She gives him a wry smile and carefully unwraps the present. When she realises what it is she promptly bursts into tears for the third time today.

She manages to sob, "It's beautiful Charles. Thank you."

After a little while she regains some composure, "I'm sorry, I'm don't know what I'm doin' anymore. I'm such a monumental fuck-up. Why do you bother with me?"

He puts his arm around her, gently pulling her towards him. She fits perfectly and he feels her relax into the hug.

"Because you're my best friend." As much as he wants to add, 'and because I love you' he doesn't, not wanting to add to her troubles.

She puts her head in her hands and lets out a frustrated sigh, "I just can't seem to get meself straight... since graduatin' I have achieved precisely nothin'. I look at you and everythin' you've achieved and I feel like such a failure."

"Hey, look at me." He reaches out and gently tips her head up. "You are not a failure. Yes, things haven't been great for you, but they will get better. You have to believe that... I believe that."

They sit in silence for a little while before she snorts, "Well I got offered a promotion to restaurant manager today... on the basis that I'm reliable and am goin' nowhere."

"Don't take it."

She's surprised by the force of his response, "What d'ya mean?"

"I mean, don't fucking take it. If you do, things won't change."

"It's more money..."

"Dawesy, if it is money that is holding you back, you know I can help." He knows she's not going to like this offer and braces himself for her response.

Her eyes flash with indignity, "I'm not a fuckin' charity case. I don't need your money."

He presses on, unperturbed, "I know you're not a charity case, but please think about it. I would be happy to help. It would only be a loan, you can pay me back".

She sighs heavily, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be ungrateful. I just dunno what I wanna do. But yer right, I'm not goin' to figure it out workin' at Loco bleedin' Caliente."

He's not ready to give up on this conversation yet, "So, do you have any ideas about what you might wanna do?"

The truth is that she has thought about this in her better moments, but hasn't been able to see a way to make it happen until now and certainly hasn't shared it with anyone, "Well... I 'ave been thinkin'."

"Oh, Dawesy, that does sound dangerous."

"Oi, yer supposed to be encouragin' me."

"Sorry, I am. I am. Go on."

She takes a deep breath and knows that as soon as she says the words he will encourage and support her in any way she asks, but that she'll also be opening herself for the prospect of more failure, "Well... I was thinking I could do a PGCE and become an English teacher."

"I think that is a fucking awesome idea. I can help you with the applications or interview practice... I mean, only if you want... You will be brilliant. "

"Thank you... for believin' in me Charles. You're such a... good friend"

He sees that she's about to start crying again and pulls her into another hug, "Hey come here, no more tears." He hates seeing her so unhappy and wishes he could make everything better for her. More than anything, he wishes she saw him as more than a good friend.

She wishes she could stay in this position, snuggled in his arms, forever. It feels so safe, so right. She doesn't deserve to have him as a friend, nevermind anything else.

After a while of companionable silence and hugging, she remembers his text and that he had said he had news. She reluctantly pulls away and returns to a safer sitting distance.

"So enough about me... tell me somethin' excitin'... you said you 'ad news."

He's reticent about sharing his news given everything she's just said,"Yes, well... I've been promoted to Lieutenant."

She's genuinely delighted for him, "Oh Charles, that was quick. That's amazin' news. Well done. Let's toast that."

He's tempted to leave it there, but he knows he has to tell her the rest of his news. He's anxious how she's going to take it in her fragile state, but he knows it is best to do it face to face and he's not sure whether he'll get another chance. He take a deep breath, "There's more... what with 9/11 and the situation in Afghanistan, it also looks like I might be going on my first combat tour soon."

She's unable to hide the shock and worry which hits her with this news, "Oh."

He's concerned that she might start crying again, "Nothing is confirmed yet..."

She won't let herself cry about this too, it is not fair to him, despite wondering how she'll cope with him away. She's knows this is what he's always wanted and what he's been training for. She has to be brave about this, "I know this is what you want... I'm pleased for you... I really am. It's just I'll miss you."

"Christ. I'll miss you too Dawsey. We'll be able to write, text and call."

"Yes, of course we can."

She looks out over the view of London and resolves that she needs to get a grip of her life. She needs to make some changes, reset herself and take control of her destiny. Today, St Swithin's Day 2002 is the first day of the rest of her life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Tuesday 15 July 2003**

 _Lake Garda, Italy_

"'Ave I mentioned how beautiful this place is?"

"Once or twice Dawesy, once or twice. Now can you shut the fuck up as I've got the hangover from hell and am trying to get some sleep."

She looks over at him lying with his eyes closed on the sun-lounger. She sees that he is smiling, and giggles.

"Well if you weren't such a light-weight..."

"I've been on tour for 8 months... my tolerance for alcohol isn't quite what it was..."

She'd seen him off from Brize Norton on a cold, miserable, grey November day. It had been very weird knowing that they wouldn't see each other for eight months and their conversation whilst waiting for his departure call was surprisingly difficult to sustain.

Although she'd had time to get used to the idea of him being deployed to a war zone, she was terrified of something bad happening to him.

For his part, although he was much less worried about her than he had been in the summer, he had still regretted having to leave her so soon after she'd started her training.

It was at Brize that she'd suggested they should go on holiday together when he got back. It was just something she said to fill one of the awkward silences between them. She didn't really expect it to happen, thought more of it as wishful thinking, a fantasy. As his tour progressed he kept mentioning it, almost as though it was something to focus on, to keep him going during those months away from home.

By the time his tour was finished, he had planned everything. As soon as he got back, they were going on holiday to Italy, to stay at his parent's holiday home on Lake Garda. He was adamant that the holiday was his anniversary present to her. He wanted to celebrate her successful completion of her course and the end of his first tour. She'd put in a small, token protest about the extravagance of the gift but she had known that once he'd made up his mind, that it was pointless arguing about it with him.

She also hadn't argued too hard because she had seen pictures of his family holidays at the Lake Garda house and it had looked absolutely idyllic. She was also slightly ashamed that at the age of 27 she had never actually been abroad. Family holidays for her had been a week of hell in a static caravan in Clacton-on-Sea.

She sneaks another look at him. He always had a good body, but Army life has made him super lean, fit and strong. Despite being her best friend, she still thinks he is possibly the most bleeding good looking man she has ever known. She tells herself that there is absolutely nothing wrong with appreciating the view. At this moment though, he looks slightly ridiculous with a beautifully tanned face and arms, but very white legs and torso. A classic soldiers' tan.

"You might gonna need to work on that tan though. Thought you were in bleedin' Afghanistan."

He snorts with laughter, "I was working you know... It wasn't a bloody holiday."

She looks over at the man who has supported and encouraged her, believed in her when she was at her lowest ebb. She feels a huge surge of affection for him.

He opens his eyes and catches her eye, "Are you perving at my body again, Dawesy?"

Although she knows he's teasing her, she feels herself blushing all the same and turns away. After five years of friendship they are at the point in their relationship where they can safely tease each other about stuff like this, knowing that it doesn't mean anything. She still occasionally wonders what if things had turned out differently the night of their graduation. But she knows that if something was going to happen between them, it would have done so long ago. She loves him deeply, but first and foremost as a friend. There is no way she would ever complicate things between them now.

She's giggling again, "Yeah, sometimes I don't know how I'm able to keep me hands off you mate."

He sounds put out, "Charming, you really know how to wound a man's ego, Dawesy."

"Oh don't be a grumpy arse, you know that I love you."

He wishes that she loved him in more than the purely platonic way she obviously does. He's struggling to come up with a witty response and settles on a quiet, "Ditto."

She lies back on her sun-lounger, smiling happily to herself. She can't quite get over how much difference a year can make, how different her life is now and how much things have changed for the better.

After last summer's breakdown she had managed to secure a last minute place on a English PGCE course at UCL. She'd worked the rest of the summer at Loco Caliente as restaurant manager earning as much as she could right up until she had jacked it in one day in September and started the course the very next day. With her first class degree she had managed to get a bursary to cover her living costs, and with the money she had saved, she didn't have to take Charles up on his loan offer. She'd shared a house with some people on her course and rediscovered what it means to have a social life. She has had a few dates and even ended her 'dry' spell. Although there isn't anyone special, she's feeling more confident that it will happen sooner or later.

She has loved the course and has excelled at the practical aspects of teaching secondary school aged children; years of managing her numerous younger siblings having set her in good stead for the battleground of an inner London comprehensive. Towards to end of the course, she had found herself in the enviable position of having three job offers and has chosen to take a job in a South London school, starting in September. She has put a rental deposit down on a small studio flat in Brixton.

She's thinking how life is good as she dozes off.

She is awoken some time later by Charles gently shaking her shoulder, "Dawesy, wake-up, you're looking a bit red."

"Now who's pervin' at who?"

He doesn't take the bait, sits back down on his sun-lounger and answers seriously, "I think you need some more sun-cream or maybe a cool down in the pool."

She starts rubbing in suncream to her arms and legs. He's surprised when she comes over to his sun-lounger, lobs her suncream at him and sits down in front of him, "Can you do me back for me?".

He hesitates briefly, wondering how he'll cope with the close physical contact of this action before telling himself to pull it together. He gently pushes her hair to one side, squeezes some sun-cream onto her shoulders and back and starts rubbing it in. It is more agonising than he anticipated. It is just too much for him to touch her like this, particularly after 8 months devoid of any female company. The urge to kiss her neck is overwhelming and he's in serious danger of giving away just how aroused he is.

"All done." He stops abruptly, gets up and quickly dives into the pool before she has a chance to turn around and see the effect she has on him.

She watches as he swims a few lengths and attempts to recover from the lapse of judgment which led her to ask him to rub sun-cream on her back. Everything she has convinced herself of in terms of her platonic feelings for him of went out the window when he touched her neck and started to rub her back. Thank god he stopped when he did, as she was seconds from turning around and making a complete fool of herself.

"You coming in Dawsey?"

"Nah, yer alright."

Whilst she honestly can't think of anyone she'd rather spend a week on holiday with, she decides there and then that she needs to come up with a few rules of engagement to avoid herself getting carried away and spoiling things between them. On the basis of what just happened, number one has to be no inappropriate physical contact. A broad rule which should include all forms of sun-cream rubbing and extra special care to be taken when she's drunk, no pissed cuddling or hugs. Number two is going to be no more sneaky perving at him whilst he's sun-bathing, swimming, showering or getting changed. Number three is no more flirting. Piss-taking is fine, and an important defence mechanism for her, but she needs to be careful to keep it on safe territory.

She smiles to herself, feeling pleased with her maturity to handle this situation. She is determined to enjoy her holiday with her best friend and not cock it up. The newly improved Molly Dawes does not do monumental fuck-ups.

-x-

It's much later and they've wandered into picturesque Malcesine for dinner.

The 'rules' are holding up nicely. During dinner she's been asking him lots of questions about life on tour, having realised that she knows very little of his job, having been so self-absorbed in her own misery for the past few years. She's enjoying hearing about the people he works with, the missions he's been on and the way things work in the Army. She can't quite get her head around the concept of following orders and the chain of command.

"So, let me get this straight. You'd follow an order even if you didn't agree with it?"

"Absolutely."

"That's mental."

"I follow my orders and I trust those higher in the chain of command to see the bigger picture. It's what we have to believe in and so I believe in it."

"Really?"

"Yes, the rules are there for a reason. Everyone knows where they stand and it keeps the Army functioning effectively."

She starts sniggering, thinking about how this logic applies to her own rules and what he'd say if he knew about them.

"What's so bloody funny?"

"Nothing..."

Despite her best intentions, she's really quite pissed in a happy drunk way. A combination of too much sun and the fact that he seems to be taking it easy on the booze means that she's consumed the best part of two bottles of wine during dinner.

She stands up unsteadily, "I think I might gonna need to get some fresh air. Can we pay up and go for a walk or somethin'?"

They leave the restaurant and start walking along the lakeside promenade away from town. She's finding it quite an effort to walk in a straight line and stumbles more than once before he slips his arm around her waist to keep her steady, "Hey, you alright? I've got you."

Instinctively she tucks her hand into his back pocket, inadvertently contravening rule one, "Thanks. Think I'm a bit more pissed than I realised."

They continue walking until they come upon one of small pebble beaches dotted along the lake shore. They sit down and take in the night-time view back towards the town.

She realises that they have appear to have the beach to themselves. Before she has a chance to completely think through what she's saying, she has managed to contravene rules two and three, "Have you ever been skinny dippin'?"

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea... You've consumed enough booze to sink a battleship."

"Don't be a spoilsport, it'll be fun. If yer afraid for yer modesty, you can keep yer underwear on." She's giggling again and looks at him cheekily, "Now come on soldier, it's an order."

Before he can protest any further, she has slipped off her sandals, whipped off her dress and is making her way towards the water in her bra and knickers. He sighs and knows he has no option but to follow her. She's too pissed to be alone in the water and he doesn't really fancy explaining to her the real reason he doesn't think it is a good idea. He takes off his shirt and trousers and mutters to himself, "Christ, Dawes, what are you doing to me."

By the time he catches up with her she is no more than waist deep in the water.

"Stop!", she shrieks as he gently splashes her, grabs her hand and starts pulling her into the deeper water.

He stops and pulls her in close, "Come on Dawsey, it's supposed to be dipping, not paddling."

She looks up at him, bites her lip and sounds a bit sheepish as she admits, "Well, there is a bit of problem... you see, I can't actually swim."

He throws his head back and lets out a loud laugh.

"It's not that bleedin' funny."

He's still laughing, "Oh, it is Dawesy. Only you would suggest skinny dipping when you can't swim."

Then he's not laughing anymore, he's looking at her intently thinking how much he wants to take her head in his hands and kiss her.

She's staring at him thinking that it would only take a small movement to reach up, pull his head towards her and kiss him.

The moment is broken as he spots movement on the shoreline near their clothing, "Shit, we're being robbed!"

He shouts, "Stop, thief" in Italian and starts wading back to the beach at speed. She follows but is considerably slower and by the time she gets to the beach, it's all over.

"The bastard's nicked my wallet, shirt and trousers." He hands her, her dress, "This obviously wasn't his colour."

"What was in your wallet?"

"Just some cash. I left everything else at the house."

"Oh, that's good...Well, you know, it's not good that we've been robbed and that."

She decides she had better shut up because judging by the look on his face, he is struggling to see that there is any good in the situation. There is nothing else to do but head back to the house, however they have to walk through town on their way. He receives quite a few cat-calls and wolf whistles as he walks in his underpants and shoes. She can't help but giggle uncontrollably at his predicament as she struggles to keep up with his sodding long legged stride.

He knows he is being a miserable sod, but he can't help it. He was so close to kissing her before it all went to shit. He doesn't really care about having to walk through town in his underwear, but wishes she wasn't finding it quite so funny. He'd thought this holiday would be a good idea, but actually it is agonising being here with her but not actually being with her. He has no idea how he is going to manage to get through the next five days.

She's starting to sober up after the excitement of the evening. She knows she was very close to ruining everything between them by nearly kissing him in the lake. She cannot afford for there to be any more lapses of judgement. The only way she is going to safely get through the next five days is by sticking to the rules of engagement. She smirks to herself and adds rule number 4, no skinny dipping.


	6. Chapter 6

**Apologies to everyone who is finding their lack of honesty and the near-misses a bit too frustrating (as devs66 nicely put it "even by CJ and Molly fanfiction standards of misunderstanding and lack of communication")**

 **I guess they're both a bit too worried about messing up what has developed into a beautiful friendship.**

 **Please stay with me, trust me and wait out... but also be prepared for some bumps in the next few years... oh and please do keep the reviews coming ;-)**

 **Thursday 15 July 2004**

 _Clapham & Brixton, South London_

The bell sounds, signalling the end of another school day. With just two more days until the end of term it is difficult to get the kids to concentrate on anything meaningful particularly as they are in the middle of a heatwave. To give everyone, including herself, a break from the stifling classroom, Molly has brought her year 8 class outside for some quiet reading time.

"Right, class dismissed. Home time!"

She smiles as there is chorus of "Bye Miss", "See you tomorrow Miss."

Her first year at Clapham Park Secondary School has been bleeding hard work, but it has also been the most satisfying and rewarding year of her life as well.

As the newest member of staff in the English Department, it has been expected that she gets involved in extra-curricular activities as well her class work, and she has been kept busy with the school newspaper, school play, writing club and sixth form book club. Not that she is complaining at all and absolutely loves her work. The staff team are brilliant and the kids are on the whole pretty decent too. There are of-course some difficult ones, but she seems to have a knack for dealing with them and hasn't had any of the discipline problems which sometimes beset newly qualified teachers.

She looks up at the burning hot sun and wonders what Charles is up to at this moment. With the time difference, it will be early evening in Afghanistan. She has the usual anxious feeling in her stomach that always comes when she stops to think about him working in a war-zone. The news from Kabul is grim, with the violence escalating by the day. He's been back there on tour since February and all going well he should be back sometime in September.

The timing of his tour means that there will not be a repeat of last year's holiday this summer; which is a real shame, particularly as she has a six-week summer holiday to fill. She had a wonderful time away with him in Italy and once she stuck to the rules of engagement, there were no more risky close encounters but just a lot of laughter and fun with her best friend. In fact, the rules have been consistently applied ever since and she thinks she has finally put to bed the foolish notion of them ever being romantically involved.

Their friendship feels stronger than ever and they both made time for each other whilst he was back in the UK after his first tour, both knowing that he'd be off again within a few months. For the first time ever they'd spent Christmas together. He'd been saying for years how magical his parent's house was at Christmas and finally she'd accepted his invitation to visit. He hadn't been exaggerating and it couldn't have been more different to the stressful and chaotic Dawes family Christmas' and frankly she'd loved every moment of it. His parents are always so welcoming and kind to her when she sees them, he likes to joke that they prefer her to him. Whilst she knows that isn't true, she does often feel like the daughter they never had. She's long since got over her nervousness around them and is confident that they like her and respect her for who she is.

She's not had time to worry about getting romantically involved with anyone since she started her new job, preferring to focus on making a good impression at school, socialising with her new colleagues and most importantly being the best teacher she can be.

She looks at her watch and realises she needs to get a move on if she's going to get home in time to speak to him at 5pm UK time as planned. Home is her studio apartment in Brixton. It's modest, but she loves having her own space to come home to. She rented the place unfurnished, and has enjoyed filling it with her own furniture and belongings.

 _Kabul, Afghanistan_

This tour feels totally different to his first, partly because of the additional responsibility which comes with being a Captain, but also because the situation in Kabul has escalated as the Taliban have started to adopt terror tactics with suicide bombs and IEDs becoming common occurrences. He feels like he has been living in a constant high state of alert for the last six months.

He's still loving being in the Army and can't imagine himself in any other career. He finds it easy to focus on the task in hand on a day to day basis, his days busy from the minute he wakes up until he hits his pit exhausted at night. He doesn't generally spend that much time thinking about home and the important people in his life, but it is tough to be away on special days like birthdays or anniversaries, days like today.

He was delighted to see a friendly face arrive last week, even if it was in the shape of Elvis. Having succeeded in joining Special Forces three years ago, Elvis has just been promoted to Captain and is now in-charge of his own section. In Kabul preparing for a covert mission, they'd had a couple of days together which allowed for some long over-due catch-up.

Elvis had surprised him with news that he'd met the girl of his dreams, was getting married and would like him to be his best man. He'd never known Elvis to be serious about any girl, but it sounded like this Georgie had captured his heart. An experienced army medic, she was clearly able to handle herself and he was looking forward to meeting her in due course.

Elvis' news had unsettled him in other ways and unexpectedly, he'd found himself confessing everything about his secret feelings for Molly to his best friend.

Elvis' reaction had been a shock to him, "I'm sorry mate, but am I supposed to be surprised about this 'revelation'."

He'd been confused, "What do you mean?"

Elvis had looked at him as though he as simple, "Well it's always been a bit fucking obvious that you fancy her."

He'd groaned and put his head in his hands at this point, "Has it?"

Elvis had that all too familiar cheeky look on his face and was clearly enjoying his discomfort, "Well maybe not to her, but yes…. why do you think I've never tried it on with her?"

He'd ignored the obvious wind-up, "What am I going to do Elvis? I've tried to bury my feelings for her but it is literally killing me being around her, but not being with her. I can't do it any longer. Actually, ignore that, I don't want to do it any longer."

Elvis proved he could be serious when needed, "Well, I suggest you just tell her…. not now, not when you're stuck in this god-forsaken shithole, but when you get back, just tell her how you feel and see what she says."

He voiced his deepest fear, "I don't want to ruin our friendship."

Elvis had that cocky grin on his face again, "Mate, from where I'm standing, I reckon you don't have any choice but to be brave and take a chance that perhaps she is also a massive emotional fuck-up and secretly feels the same about you."

"Lovely. Thanks for that vote of confidence Elvis."

"You're welcome Charlie-boy. Anytime."

-x-

It's bang on 20:30 when he dials her number, as agreed.

"Hi, Dawesy. Can you hear me ok?"

"Hi…. It's not a great line, but yeah."

"Happy Anniversary. Sorry to be away today….."

"It's the first year we'll not see each other…."

"I know, I'm sorry. Do you have the gift there?"

"Yeah."

"Have you opened it?"

"No, it is clearly marked 'do not open until we speak', so I 'aven't opened it."

"Unlike you to follow my orders Dawesy."

"Well, I know how pissy you get and seen as yer away on tour, I thought I'd be good"

"Charming. I do not get pissy."

"I hate to break it to you, but you do. You can sulk for England when you wanna."

"Just open your bloody present Dawesy."

She balances the phone on her shoulder whilst she opens the envelope.

There's laughter in her voice, "Swimming lessons? You cheeky sod."

"Well you refused my offer of teaching you when were in Italy and told me you were going to learn when you got back to England. Have you?"

"Well… no, but I have been a bit bleedin' busy this year."

"Well, no more excuses Dawesy. It's an essential life skill. I expect you to be proficient by the time I get back..."

"Don't be all bossy Captain Army with me... I'm not one of your squaddies."

"But you will learn? You've got six weeks off coming up. It's the perfect time."

"Yes, ok…..I promise I will. Thank you... I think."

He can't resist teasing her, "You'll thank me when we next go skinny dipping."

She snorts with laughter, "Thought you were never goin' skinny dippin' ever again after last time?"

He's laughing too, "Well, time is a great healer and even though I didn't see it at the time, it was bloody funny."

She's giggling now, "I so wish I'd been able to take a picture of yer 'walk' through town... yer face was a bleedin' picture."

"I am eternally grateful that there is no photographic evidence….. I can't believe you told bloody Elvis about it. The shit taking bastard has not let up teasing me about it."

She becomes serious, knowing enough about Elvis' line of work to know that his presence usually means things aren't good, "Is he there with you?"

"He was, he's gone on special ops now to God knows where."

There's a short silence, before she asks hesitantly, "Is it as bad out there as it looks on the news and that?"

"Well… it's not pretty."

Her voice is full of concern, "You will stay safe won't you Charles. You know…Stay focussed. Stay alert. Stay alive."

He tries to keep things light, he doesn't want her to dwell on the what-ifs of his current situation, "Hey, that's pretty good Dawsey. I might borrow that for briefing the lads. Might gonna get you to write all my speeches… actually talking of speeches I've got some other news…."

Suddenly their conversation is interrupted by an ear splittingly loud explosion.

She can't keep the panic from her voice, "Shittin' 'ell. What was that?"

"I'm not sure. Sounded like a bomb. Near by. I'm sorry. All hell is breaking loose. Shit, I've got to go."

The line goes dead and she's left holding the telephone in a state of shock.


	7. Chapter 7

**Friday 15 July 2005**

 _Brixton, South London_

She looks over the restaurant table at the man she now calls her boyfriend and smiles to herself. Although she hadn't been looking for a romantic relationship with anyone this time last year, in the end it really had been a case of absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It was an unexpected meeting at the beginning of the summer holidays that had led to a proper date and given their shared history, they'd quickly settled into a relationship.

She feels loved and adored by him which, after so many years of being single, is a very happy place to be. Their banter is better than ever and certainly more flirtatious than before.

The only real problem is Charles. He'd got back from his second Afghan tour in late September. She'd not been able to meet him at Brize Norton because of school, but he'd come up to London his first weekend back. She'd been so happy to see him back safely, particularly after the scare she'd had that night of their anniversary call. Those few hours between getting cut-off on the phone and receiving a text from him, telling her he was ok, were some of the longest hours of her life.

She'd been so excited about telling him her news, thinking he'd be happy for her. Getting a serious boyfriend was another important step in her life plan.

She'd met him off the train at Paddington station. There had been a big hug from him, which she thought had been a bit tighter and had gone on a little bit longer than normal, but she knew he'd had a tough tour so thought it was understandable.

Eventually she'd called time, "Hey yer squishing me!"

He'd released her and held her at arms-length looking at her keenly, "Sorry, I've missed you…. You look great by the way, different somehow?"

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment… well I'm bleedin' 'appy to see you and I 'ave some good news…"

"Me too, shall we get a coffee or something and we can talk?"

They'd settled in a cosy little Italian coffee shop and he'd ordered one of his fancy coffees and she'd gone for her normal builder's tea.

He'd seemed nervous and was making idle conversation, "Hmm, that's good. The coffee in Kabul is not up to much."

She'd winked and given her standard response to one of his coffee comments, "Well, you know that a tea-bag does me just fine."

He'd smiled at her, "So, you said you had news?"

She'd teased him, "You too, you go first!"

He'd laughed and replied, "No, I asked first, you go first…."

Sensing that this could go on for some time, she succumbed, "Ok, bossy boots. Well, while you've been away playing soldiers, I've met someone… you know someone special…. I've only gone and got meself a bleedin' boyfriend!"

He'd looked surprised, "Well…. I wasn't expecting that…"

"I know…. I thought I was gonna end up on the shelf, like some lonely old spinster in a Jane Austen novel."

There had been a short silence before he'd asked, "So… what's his name?"

"Well, actually you've met 'im….. I used to work with 'im at the restaurant. Bumped into 'im by chance a few months ago…"

He'd looked like he was about to explode, "Not fucking Artan?"

She'd giggled at the thought of that ever happening, "No, you prannet, Dylan… you might remember him as Smurf."

His expression had become fixed, devoid of emotion, "Oh, of course…. Is it serious?"

She'd smiled and felt a warm feeling inside as she thought about Dylan, "Yes, I think it might be. I like him a lot and he treats me really well. I'm 'appy."

"Right….."

"So, your turn…. Tell me your news."

"Oh, it's nothing... nothing as exciting as your news."

Funnily enough, thinking back, she can't actually remember what his news had been that day, it hadn't been memorable. Her main recollection is that from that point something in their relationship changed and things haven't been the same between them since. She's tried to talk to him about it on more than one occasion but he's always cut her short or changed the subject.

He seems to mostly sulk whenever they get together and frankly she's a bit fed up with him. He's not made much attempt to get to know Dylan, and on the times they've met it's been pretty uncomfortable for all. Elvis and Georgie's wedding in March was almost disastrous.

She knows he feels protective of her and doesn't want her to get hurt or to go back to how she was in her bad days, but she's feels like a different person now.

Dylan is a different person too. They'd lost touch for a couple of years as he'd left the restaurant when she did and joined the Met Police. He's doing really well as a PC and has been identified as having potential to progress through the ranks. He's still prone to a bit of cockiness, but has matured considerably. He's remained kind and funny and is well-liked by all her other friends and family.

She's experienced a range of emotions in response to Charles' reaction to her relationship with Dylan but she's now settled on being sad and disappointed. She misses her best friend and just wishes he would get over himself and be happy for her.

She's not heard much from him since he went off on tour again in April. Over the past week, she's left a few voicemails and texted, but he hasn't responded. It seems that for the first time in six years, there is no gift and no pre-arranged plan to speak on their anniversary.

 _Kabul, Afghanistan_

It's nearly midnight and he's picked up and put down his phone about twenty times over the last hour. Since coming on tour, he's been doing his best to forget about the total fuck-up he's made of his friendship with Molly, but he can't ignore it today, on their anniversary and knows that an apology for his recent behaviour is long overdue and that if he doesn't do it soon, the situation will be irretrievable.

He's acutely aware that he has been acting like a jealous prick ever since she told him about her relationship with Dylan and that's he's been completely out of line and unfair to her. He never got to tell her how he felt about her and he's still managed to do the very thing he was most worried about, ruin their friendship.

He'd been so hopeful the day he'd travelled to London to see her. He'd rehearsed what he was going to say and had been feeling confident is his decision to reveal his true feelings. Their meeting had started well and it had felt so good to hold her that he hadn't really wanted to let her go. She'd looked so radiant and beautiful that he'd almost blurted it out there and then.

If only he'd gone first with his news, which was actually going to be more of a declaration of love. Instead, like some complete idiot, he'd hesitated and insisted she went first. Of course, once she'd told him her news there was no way he could tell her what he had been planning to say. He'd made up some bullshit which he can't even remember now.

Everything he'd planned, his foolish thoughts for their future, his conviction that they were meant to be together had collapsed when she had told him that she was in, what she thought could be, a serious relationship. She'd been so happy and he'd known that there was no way he could lay down his bombshell on her. He'd left it too late, he'd missed his chance for the final time.

He doesn't blame her. She deserves to be happy. All he has ever wanted is for her to be happy. He blames himself for not being honest with her on any of the many occasions he could have told her. He blames himself for not having the courage to speak up earlier. He just wishes he could return their relationship to happier times.

He shudders as he remembers the clusterfuck he'd made of Elvis and Georgie's wedding.

Although he was delighted for Elvis, he had been secretly dreading the day as he knew she'd be bringing Dylan along as her plus one. Back when Elvis had asked him to be his best man, he'd had visions of her attending as his girlfriend.

It had been bearable whilst he'd been kept busy with his official duties during the ceremony and reception, but once he'd made his best man speech he'd found himself under-occupied. He'd recklessly hit the bar and as he'd got drunk his judgement failed him and an irrational jealousy had started to take control. It hadn't helped that she'd looked stunning and when he'd seen her slow dancing with Dylan something in him had just snapped.

He'd marched up to the dancefloor and ungraciously attempted to cut-in mid-dance. Dylan had quite rightly and reasonably suggested he wait his turn, but like some fucking shit-for-brains squaddie he had pulled Dylan's shoulder and squared up to him. Molly had looked horrified and the situation had only been averted by Elvis dragging him outside for some fresh air.

Elvis had been pretty unforgiving, "What the fuck are you doing Charlie?"

"I can't stand it. It should be me in there dancing with her, not him."

"Look, I know it hurts, but she's with him and in case you can't see, she's really happy."

"She could be happy with me."

"Mate, she might have been happy with you, but as you never actually told her how you feel, you have no rights here. Right now, she's happy with him. I suggest that unless you want to lose her all together, you stop acting like a wanker."

"Shit Elvis. Tell it to me gently why don't you."

"I'm sorry, but I sort of don't have time for a heart to heart right now. Now take a minute. Pull yourself fucking together and get back in there. Do not fucking do fucking anything to ruin my wedding day or else you'll have Georgie to answer to as well."

He'd eventually gone back inside, briefly apologised and behaved himself for the rest of the evening but he knew that it wasn't enough.

He'd already volunteered for another tour and was back in Kabul a week later and has been avoiding matters ever since.

He picks up and puts down his phone again and sighs heavily. He doesn't trust himself to say the words he needs to say without cocking it up. Instead, he opens his laptop and finds the email from Georgie with some pictures from the wedding. He scrolls through the pictures until he finds the one he wants. It's a great shot of him, Molly and Dylan taken outside the church. He saves it and attaches it to a new email.

 _From: Charles James_

 _To: Molly Dawes_

 _Date: 15 July 2005_

 _Subject: Cockwomble_

 _Dawesy_

 _I know I've been a massive cockwomble recently. All I can say is I'm sorry and I hope you can forgive me. Your friendship means the world to me._

 _I'm sorry that I haven't managed an anniversary gift this year but I thought perhaps you could put this picture in a nice frame somewhere._

 _C x_


	8. Chapter 8

**Saturday 15 July 2006**

 _Brixton, South London_

She's stood in the kitchen, anxiously surveying the scene in front of her, "Do you think we've got enough booze?"

He comes up behind her, places a kiss on her neck and gives her a hug, "Dunno Molls... enough to get the party going I hope. People will bring stuff and there is such thing as shops if we run out!"

She turns around to face him, slipping her arms around his waist, "Ok, smart arse. I just want it to be perfect."

He's starting to kiss her, "Thought you always said you didn't do perfect?"

She's responding to his kisses, "Yeah well I've changed since becomin' a 'omeowner!"

They're in the kitchen of their newly bought house, which had been described by the estate agent as a "much loved family home in need of modernisation" which was a slight understatement. The classic 2 up, 2 down South London Victorian terrace had been lived in by the same couple for the last 35 years and nothing has been done to the place in that time. The house is certainly going to be a project, but one that she is looking forward to.

"Oh Dylan, I still can't believe it's actually ours."

He's got a wicked look in his eye as he picks her up and places her gently on the nearest kitchen counter, "Hmm, I don't think we've christened the kitchen yet..."

"Hmm, think you might be right. We're gonna have to be quick, people will be here soon."

"Don't you worry about that, I can be quick. I love you Molly Dawes."

She doesn't say anything but succumbs to his, not altogether unwelcome, advances.

She's aware that she hasn't yet told him that she loves him. There is something holding her back from saying the words to him. She's really happy in the relationship and knows he loves and adores her completely. They make a great couple, get on brilliantly and the sex is good, but for her there is something missing. She knows that she likes Dylan a lot and cares for him deeply, but it's a comfortable warm feeling rather than the passionate spark she's felt around Charles in the past. Most of the time she pushes these doubts away but when he says he loves her, they're there and she can't quite bring herself to say the words in return. She doesn't think Dylan has noticed her hesitance or if he has, he's never challenged her on it.

-x-

The party is in full swing and they're surrounded by her teacher friends and his police mates.

She checks her watch, "Do you think he'll come?"

He kisses her briefly and squeezes her arm reassuringly, "I'm sure he will, he said he would."

As if on cue the doorbell rings, "I'll get it."

As she walks towards the front door, she can tell by the height and weight of the shadow behind the frosted glass panels that it is him. Judging by the shape next to him, he's brought a girl with him. She briefly wonders who it will be this time. Since getting back from his last tour six months ago, he has been on a dating mission and there has literally been a different girl each time she's seen him. She's slightly lost count and they've all sort of merged into one, being largely the same type of young, blonde, beautiful girl who seems completely overawed being with a handsome, confident Army captain.

Thankfully their own friendship has returned to a stable place and he seems to have resolved whatever issue he had with Dylan in the beginning.

Dylan, for his part, did not hold any grudge about the whole Elvis and Georgie wedding thing and seems to accept that her close friendship with Charles is part of the package that comes with her.

She opens the door and is engulfed in a big Charles hug which as usual seems to go on a little bit longer than entirely necessary, "Dawesy!"

Once he lets her go, he seems to remember his companion and his manners, "Molly, this is Rebecca."

In some respects Rebecca fits his normal type perfectly as she's blonde and beautiful but she's not a young girl like the others, more their age and the epitome of confidence and good breeding.

She gives Rebecca one of her biggest, most friendliest smiles and extends her hand, "Hi Rebecca. Nice to meet you."

She's met with a polite, but cold smile in return and a quick handshake, "Hello Molly. Charles has told me a lot about you."

She's finding Rebecca's reluctance to return the warmth of her greeting a little unnerving and attempts a joke, "Please don't believe any of it."

She's met with an impassive stare from Rebecca and she's temporarily lost for words.

Charles meanwhile seems unaware of the tension between the two women, "So, are you going to invite us in or do we have to stay out here on the doorstep?"

"Yes, of course... come in, sorry about the state of the place but it is gonna be a bit of a project. At least it can't be trashed!"

-x-

She sees Charles is chatting to Dylan, probably about sport or work. They actually seem to get on pretty well these days and have found common ground from which to develop a friendship.

She sees that Rebecca is on her own and decides to go and be friendly, "So Rebecca, how did you and Charles meet?"

"We met at an Officer's ball."

She can't help being surprised, "You're in the Army?"

"Good god, no...My father's a Brigadier."

Of course she wouldn't be in the Army, she doesn't look like she'd be happy roughing it on exercises or living out of a bergen. She's a bit shaky on Army ranks but it pretty sure that a Brigadier is fairly important, "Oh right. So what do you do?"

"I'm a Barrister. Charles tells me you're a teacher."

She can't help but notice the superiority in Rebecca's voice and the way she says teacher as though it is a dirty word, "Yes, I teach English at a local secondary school."

"I can't think of anything more frightful than voluntarily spending time with teenage children."

She is thrown by Rebecca's apparent lack of effort to be pleasant.

Rebecca looks at her with utter disdain, "Well you know what people say, those who can do and those who can't teach."

As Rebecca stalks off, she's left open mouthed and unsure what she's done to provoke such a vicious reaction.

Whilst she's still recovering from the encounter Charles comes over, once again oblivious to any tension.

"I'm glad to see you're getting to know Rebecca."

She doesn't quite know what to say, "She's...er... quite different to your usual girlfriends."

He doesn't seem to get her meaning, "I know, isn't she? I think it could be serious."

She's shocked at this declaration as she has not heard of Rebecca before today and hasn't exactly warmed to her so far, "Really? Does she make you 'appy?"

He doesn't really meet her eyes, "Yes, she gets the whole Army thing. Her dad is a Brigadier."

She's acutely aware that he hasn't answered her question, "Right... well that's good, I guess."

"Indeed."

He hadn't been sure whether it would be a good idea to bring Rebecca to the housewarming party or not. Whilst he gets on well with Molly and Dylan's friends and enjoys spending time with them, he knows that Rebecca's social circle is quite different. In the end, she'd expressed an interest in meeting Molly, which he'd taken as a good sign.

She's quite different to the girls he's been dating recently, who have been fun to mess around with but not exactly challenging in other respects. Rebecca is without doubt a woman who knows what she wants and from what he's seen so far, is laser focussed on getting it. She has a formidable reputation as a Barrister and is also stunningly beautiful. From what he's been able to find out, she's pretty choosy about who she goes out with and he feels quite flattered that she has apparently chosen him.

Infact, she seems very keen on him and they make a powerful couple. He likes that she is independent and understands the Army way of life. He has been thinking that it might be time to settle down and although it is early days, she would make an excellent Officer's wife. He knows that he doesn't feel passionate about Rebecca in the same way as he has done, well if he's honest with himself still does, about the woman stood before him but he is sure he could learn to love her deeply.

He shakes his head, bringing himself back to reality, "So Dawesy, can't believe you've become a homeowner before me..."

She's smiling happily, "I know, it's a bit crazy isn't it."

"But you're good, yes?... you know, you and Dylan?"

"Yes, I am. We are."

"I know I was a bit of a dick when you first started seeing him, but I can see that he's a good man and he loves you."

She raises her eyebrows, "A bit of a dick?..."

He laughs, he knows that she has long since forgiven him but that she won't pass up the chance to tease him, "Yes, alright. I was a massive cockwomble... but I'm happy for you Dawesy, I truly am."

She gives him one of her killer smiles, which still makes him yearn for her in ways beyond their friendship boundaries, "Thank you, I'm so glad you two get on. Can't 'ave the two most important men in my life fightin' can I?"

Dylan chooses this moment to come over and join them, slipping his arm around Molly's waist, "Should my ears be burning?"

She leans into him and gives him a quick kiss, "Maybe a bit, but don't be gettin' a big 'ead!"

He checks his watch and reckons that he doesn't have long, "Actually, there's something I've been meaning to tell you both... Have you spoken to your brother recently Dylan?"

Dylan seems a bit confused by the direction of the conversation, "No, he's been full-on with training. I'd hoped that he might come today, but he's got a new CO and didn't know whether he'd be able to swing a pass."

He smiles and asks casually, "Oh right, has he said anything about his new CO?"

She's watching him strangely and seems to have an inkling about what is going on, "Dylan, don't answer that. Charles James... I know you too well. You're up to somethin'. What's goin' on?"

The doorbell rings.

He nods in the general direction of the front door, "You should get that Dylan."

Dylan still looks confused about what is happening, but goes along with the instruction. He looks suitably surprised when he opens the door to his even cockier, mirror image, 20 minute older twin brother, "Gerraint?!"

Gerraint comes barging in and gives his brother a slap on the back, "All right tosser!"

Next he makes a line for Molly grabbing her into a big hug, "Alright Molls, nice place. You know if you ever want a better version of my brother here, I'm the next best thing."

She's clearly used to this manner of welcome and sniggers, "Nah, yer alright. I'm quite 'appy with my version, thanks."

Gerraint surveys the room and when his eyes fall on Charles, his cockiness disappears and he's straight to attention, "Shit... Sir?"

"Relax, Smith. We're not on duty now. You can call me Charles."

She's trying to stifle giggles and Dylan looks delighted at his brother's obvious discomfort.

Gerraint has relaxed a bit but still looks a little awkward with the situation, "Right, sir... I mean... Charles..can someone tell me what is going on?"

"Well, my guess would be that Charles 'ere is your new CO, he obviously recognised you as bein' Dylan's twin brother and has arranged for you to 'ave a pass so you could come along to our house warmin' party?"

He smiles admiringly at her, "Bravo, Dawesy... Call it my house-warming gift to you both."

He sees out of the corner of his eye that Rebecca is standing near the doorway, pointing at her watch, "Now, I'm really sorry but Rebecca and I are going to have leave you to it, we've got another engagement in town."

He shakes Dylan's hand, and gives her a quick hug and a tender kiss on her cheek, whispering in her ear, "Happy anniversary too Dawsey".


	9. Chapter 9

**Sunday 15 July 2007**

 _Brixton, South London_

She's lying in bed in the half-decorated bedroom staring at the mess and chaos of her life.

Since he went she hasn't had the motivation or energy to do anything beyond the very basics of surviving, and even that has been a fucking struggle.

She's aware that she's not taking care of herself but is just too sad to care. Sadness is the overwhelming feeling. There's also been anger at the unfairness of it all. More recently, there's been a rising sense of guilt.

Her world was destroyed on that otherwise normal Wednesday in June. She'd been at home, cooking dinner when it had happened.

When he'd died.

It had happened right here in this room.

He'd come home early, saying he'd been feeling unwell and had another of his headaches. They'd been getting more frequent and she'd been nagging him to see the doctor. He'd been a typical bloke and refused to believe anything was seriously wrong. He'd been worried that it might be his eyesight, which could be a problem for his work, so he was putting off getting checked out.

She'd heard him shout her name in panic and then she'd heard a thud. She'd raced upstairs and by the time she'd got to him, he was incoherently rambling and losing consciousness. She'd had to run back downstairs for her phone and by the time she'd called 999 he was unconscious. She knew enough first aid to know that his pulse was weak and that something was very wrong. By the time the ambulance arrived minutes later, he was already dead in her arms. A massive fucking brain haemorrhage, probably not preventable but she'd never know.

She's 31 and a widow. Well technically not a real widow because they never had a chance to get married. They'd got engaged at Easter when they'd gone to the US to celebrate his 30th birthday. It had been a dream of his to take her to Las Vegas, for her to bring him luck on the roulette tables. She'd been reluctant to go at first, not really thinking of it as her scene, but once she'd got over the extravagance and ridiculousness of the place, she'd thoroughly enjoyed herself. At her insistence, they'd added on a few days hiking in Yosemite afterwards and it was there that he'd proposed, at a beautiful spot on a deserted trail.

They'd not made any firm wedding plans, but had agreed that their money focus would be on finishing the house. Neither were that bothered about having a large celebration and, they'd been veering towards a small civil service and a party with a few close friends and family, rather than a church ceremony and big reception.

His mother, Candy had been beside herself with excitement at the prospect of one of her precious boys getting married. Candy had always made it clear that she loved her, almost as much as her son had, from the first time they'd been introduced. She looks down at the engagement ring she's still wearing, the simple but beautiful engagement ring which had also been Candy's, and feels the sickening guilt taking hold.

She curls into a ball and tries to calm herself. She's exhausted but sleep is increasingly hard to come by. Since he died, people have been full of well-meaning advice, the primary topic being where she should live. Everyone is urging her to move out of the house, because this is where he died and it is morbid to stay here, but to her it is also the place which is full of their happy memories, the place they were building together. He was so enthusiastic about the house project, constantly coming up with ideas on how they could modernise and decorate the place. She doesn't think she has it in her to continue the project without him. She doesn't have the same vision or practical skills to bring his ideas to life. He surprised her in so many ways during their time together and she loved being with him. Her eternal shame and the source of her guilt, is that she never said the words to him because despite everything he gave her and how well he treated her, her heart belonged elsewhere.

She knows she has to get herself moving as he'll be here soon, 'to take her mind off things'. She knows once again he's worried about her, that everyone is worried about her. Worried that she's going to fall into depression again. Everyone sees a young woman, grieving for her dead fiancé. What would they think if they knew the truth? She doesn't deserve their sympathy.

He's been in contact regularly since the funeral, but they haven't seen each other. She knows it's awkward for him to balance seeing her and being with Rebecca. The 'ice-queen', as she taken to thinking about her, has made it clear that she doesn't like her or approve of her and Charles' friendship. She knows it has been a source of stress for him, but he's also promised that he's not going to let Rebecca come between them. She has wondered if Rebecca might be pushing him too far in this respect and despite everything that was going on, she could see that their relationship seemed strained at the funeral.

She sighs and pushes herself to get out of bed. She has a shower, gets dressed and pulls on one of his t-shirts and heads downstairs as the doorbell rings.

Her tears start flowing as soon as he hugs her. Alone, together, for what seems like the first time in years, the hug goes on for even longer than usual. She realises how desperate she's been for close physical contact.

Eventually he releases her and holds her by her arms, "Hey you."

"Hey."

"Are you still ok to go out? I thought we could go for a walk in the park ….. get some fresh air before it gets too hot?"

"Sure, just remember your bleedin' legs are a lot longer than mine and I always struggle to keep up."

"Glad to see you've not lost your sense of humour, Dawesy."

"Believe me, my sense of humour is well and truly lost at the moment. I apologise in advance for being a miserable mare."

He guides her towards the front door, "Come on then."

-x-

They've been out for a long walk during which time he's struggled to get more than a handful of yes/no responses out of her. He's feeling slightly defeated and it hurts to see her so absent and broken.

Running out of things to say, he's suggested that they head back to her place for a drink.

He's made her a tea and himself a coffee and they're sat in silence at the kitchen table, "Dawesy, it might help to talk about it."

She immediately shuts him down, "I don't want to talk about it."

He tries to be empathetic, "It's unbelievably sad and completely unfair."

She sighs and surprises him, "I feel so fuckin' guilty."

He reaches over and takes her hand, squeezing it reassuringly, "You have nothing to be guilty about. It wasn't your fault. You loved him."

She's studying the kitchen table, not meeting his eye, "I didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"I didn't love 'im. He loved me but I never told 'im I loved 'im."

"I don't understand..."

She pauses as though she's unsure how to continue. She slowly looks up and holds his confused gaze, "I never told 'im I loved 'im because I love someone else, I've always loved someone else. I've tried to fight it, tried to 'ide it away but I can't, I don't want to fight it anymore. As has been too painfully proven by recent events, life is too fuckin' short."

He's got an uneasy feeling about where this conversation is going, "What are you talking about?... Who do you love Molly?"

She's got tears in her eyes, "You Charles... It's always been you. I've just been too fuckin' scared all these years to tell you. I led Dylan on, I knew he loved me but I never told 'im either. How pathetic and cruel does that make me?"

He is reeling from her revelation, completely unprepared and unable to respond coherently, "Fuck."

"I'm sorry, I know you don't feel the same but I 'ad to tell you. I don't want you or anyone else to feel sorry for me anymore. I don't deserve it."

He can feel panic taking over, "Fuck... fuck."

"What is it Charles? I've just told you my feelings and all you've said is fuck."

He pulls his hand away from hers, quickly stands up almost pushing over the chair in his haste, "I'm sorry Molly, I've got to go... I can't do this now. I'm really sorry."

She looks at him questioningly, "Charles? ... What is it? ... Talk to me."

He glances at her, his heart breaking at the sight of her miserable and confused face, before he turns and leaves whispering, "I'm sorry."

Once he's closed the front door, he releases the breath he didn't realise he was holding and strides away, desperately putting some distance between himself and his latest fuck-up.

He gets as far as the end of the road before he stops and leans against a wall, with his head in his hands.

He knows he handled that really badly but he has no idea what to say to her, how to tell her his news. He doesn't want to tell her his news. He actually wishes he could make it all fucking go away.

He's screwed up everything and once again his timing is fucking appalling.

How can he tell her that around the time Dylan was dying, he was unwitttingly getting Rebecca pregnant and as a result, he's doing his fucking duty and they're getting married in four weeks time?


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm loving your comments on this story, which I'm rebranding as "The most frustrating story ever AKA One Day". I know that I'm severely testing your patience and have veered well beyond the bounds of reality with this catalogue of missed opportunities and piss poor timing….. but hey-ho it is fanfiction and I'm not quite done yet. Sorry ;-)**

 **Monday 15 July 2008**

 _Belleville, Paris, France_

She's sat at her desk in the window of her little apartment in the Belleville district of Paris as she has done everyday for the last three months. Normally she would be writing but today she is just staring out of the window. Despite everything she has experienced this year, all the time that has passed, all the healing which has occurred, she is wondering how he is, where he is, and what he is up to today, their anniversary.

She's not seen or spoken to him since the day of her disastrous declaration. It was the day after that she'd got a call from Rebecca; the final trigger which made her go.

She'd been surprised to see Rebecca's number come up on her phone and her first thought was that something must have happened to Charles. She really couldn't fathom any other reason why Rebecca would be voluntarily contacting her.

She remembers the conversation perfectly even though it was a year ago.

"Hi Rebecca. Is everything ok?"

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason..."

"Look, I'll get right to it. I don't want to appear insensitive given your recent loss, but will you be bringing anyone, you know, a plus one? I just need to know for the caterer."

"Sorry?"

"To the wedding."

"The what?"

"He hasn't told you? I thought he saw you yesterday?"

"Er, he did but..."

"Oh, well this is... awkward... Charles and I are getting married, just a small ceremony, on August 16th. It's all a bit rushed as we've had a happy accident, an unplanned surprise…. we're expecting a baby."

"Oh."

"I appreciate this has come as a shock to you. If you could let me know in the next couple of days we'd be grateful."

"Oh."

"Goodbye Molly."

She'd had to get away. She had no intention of slipping into depression again but knew she needed to make some drastic changes to protect herself and recover from her twice-broken heart.

Within a week she had asked school for an indefinite leave of absence, packed up her personal belongings, put the house on the market and she had left.

First, she'd been to see Candy, to say goodbye and return her engagement ring. Candy had been surprised but too consumed with her own grief to question her too hard or try to stop her. She'd promised to keep in touch and let her know she was safe.

Her own family had just accepted what she told them about leaving at face value, long since having given up on getting involved in their eldest daughter's life.

She'd screened his calls, deleted his text messages and emails without reading them, then just before leaving the country had cancelled her phone contract.

She'd spent the first nine months travelling through Asia and India. She finally understands what Charles has always said about being happy living out of a bergen or in her case a battered rucksack.

She'd lived simply, staying in basic hostels and taking casual work as needed. She'd met lots of people, heard all sorts of life stories and most importantly was able to remain anonymous and silent on her own history, moving on whenever she felt like it. She's been careful to not get too close to anyone, although there has been plenty of interest. She's not yet ready to contemplate a new relationship and is content with her own company. She's been looking after herself properly and is fitter and healthier than she has ever been before.

Whilst she's been away she's spent a lot of time thinking about what she wants from her life. She hasn't quite figured that part out but did start writing again. She started with writing a journal, charting her travels and her gradual recovery. She's written long honest letters to Dylan and Charles, obviously not posting either. Rediscovering writing has been a cathartic experience and quite possibly her saviour.

She had come up with a book idea during her early travels and following a chance meeting six months ago with a publishing editor who was vacationing in Vietnam, she secured a modest advance to write her novel on the strength of the first few early chapters.

After nine months away, she'd felt the need to get back to Europe, but hadn't been quite ready to return to England, so had settled on Paris. She's been writing solidly and doing a few hours a week English tutoring to pay her living expenses. She's almost finished the first draft and is pleased with what she has written, recognising how much her style has developed since her youthful, amateur efforts after university. The feedback from the publisher has been hugely positive and all being well _Big Julie Criscoll Versus the Whole Wide World_ will be published later in the year.

-x-

 _Forward operating base, Helmand, Afghanistan_

He's sat at the small desk in his tent aware that he has been taking out his foul mood on his undeserving platoon. Most days he manages to shut everything out, keep a lid on his misery but he's not managed it today, not on their anniversary. It's been exactly a year since he last saw or heard from her and it is slowly killing him. He misses her and has so much to say to her. He's written her letters, like in the early days of their friendship, but with no forwarding address they sit in a box on his desk unlikely to ever be delivered or read.

As soon as he found out what had happened, how she had been told, he knew that it was game-over for him and Molly.

Rebecca had seemed genuinely apologetic when she'd told him about her conversation with Molly. He was suspicious that he was being played, but in fairness Rebecca hadn't actually known that he hadn't told Molly about the wedding and the baby when he'd seen her. He had known that he couldn't lay the blame for this fuck-up on anyone else but himself.

Before the whole pregnancy thing had happened, he had been going to finish the relationship. He'd realised all too late that what he'd originally seen in Rebecca as independence and confidence was actually a controlling and deeply insecure person. He'd disliked how unpleasant Rebecca could be to and about Molly and he found her jealousy of their close friendship draining. He'd fallen for an illusion, something that was too good to be true.

Everyone says that your wedding and the birth of your children are the happiest days of your life …. but not for him.

When she'd repeatedly ignored his calls and messages that first week after their disastrous last meeting, when he'd found out that her number, the number he had given her all those years ago had been disconnected, he'd known she wouldn't turn up, that she was cutting their ties. Despite this realisation, he had still spent the entire day hoping beyond hope that she would miraculously arrive and that there might be a chance for him to rescue their relationship.

He'd put on a good show, drawing on all his well-practiced Officer control to appear happy, but he'd known in both his head and his heart that he was making a massive mistake marrying Rebecca.

When he'd asked Elvis to be his best man, Elvis had voiced serious misgivings about his motivation for getting married, but unable to dissuade him from what he'd called "a fucking disaster waiting to happen" had obediently performed his official duties on the day.

Elvis hadn't been the only person who had questioned him on whether he was sure that getting married was the right thing to do. His parents had never really warmed to Rebecca and although they had applauded his dutiful response to the unplanned pregnancy, and were delighted about the prospect of becoming grandparents, had also tried to get him to reconsider and wait out a while before getting married.

He knew they were all right, but with Molly out of contact and lost to him, he had felt the sense of duty, to do the right thing by Rebecca and his unborn child, too strongly to consider any other course of action.

He's not proud of himself but, a couple of months after the wedding, he'd volunteered for a short tour. It meant he'd be away for some of the pregnancy however should have been back in plenty of time before the birth.

Things hadn't gone to plan and Rebecca had gone into labour six weeks early and he'd missed the whole thing. His son Samuel, known as Sammie, had been fine; small but healthy. Rebecca on the other hand, had been anything but fine. She'd been angry and disappointed in him, which seemed to set the tone for the start of their life together.

She'd hated being pregnant and didn't find the transition to motherhood easy at all. She found being at home with a baby unfulfilling and missed her job.

She seemed to resent him and the fact that he was able to leave the house, go to work and continue his life much as before. He didn't seem to be able to do anything right.

After the birth he'd stayed at home for the first five months, trying to be a dutiful husband and father, but when the opportunity to take a six-month tour had come along he had jumped at it.

He loves his son and knows he is missing out on precious times by being away but most of all he knows his life is well and truly fucked when he prefers to live out of a bergen in a dangerous FOB in the Helmand province, rather than at home with his wife and new baby.


	11. Chapter 11

**Tuesday 15 July 2009**

 _Auckland, New Zealand_

She's sat at the dressing table in yet another faceless hotel room removing her make-up. She's exhausted after six full-on weeks on the road touring Australia and New Zealand.

She doesn't seem to have much time to herself these days, which is mostly a good thing as that's when the loneliness hits, when she still feels the Charles shaped hole in her life. Not that she is going to do anything about that, too much time has passed and it is still too painful.

Being on the other side of the world, in the middle of the winter, she almost missed the significance of the date. Ten years since they'd met, two years since they last spoke.

She can only imagine how his life, with Rebecca and their child, has moved on. She supposes he knows her story and wonders if he ever read her book, saw the dedication.

She'd debated long and hard about what name to publish under. A large part of her wanted to do it under a pen name, to retain the anonymity she'd craved in the aftermath of Dylan's death and her break from Charles. Her publisher had counselled her strongly against it, recognising the potential marketing opportunity of her backstory and in the end she had reluctantly agreed.

No-one, apart from her and Charles, knew the full sordid details of her history. She'd revealed the edited highlights which her publisher spun to make her out to be a triumph over adversity kind of story... the East End council estate girl who went to university, secured a first class degree and then overcame depression and personal tragedy to become a published author.

She rationalised the decision by convincing herself that it was highly unlikely that anyone would read her book anyway, and even if they did, they wouldn't be bothered about her own story.

She'd been massively wrong on both accounts. Her book had been a huge critical and commercial success, both in the intended teen fiction market but also in the general market. It topped the Christmas 2008 best-seller lists and she found herself very much in demand, being hailed as the next JK Rowling.

She'd found the attention excruciatingly embarrassing at first, but after some coaching and media training by her publisher, she quickly became a natural at handling interviews, book signings and readings. She started to enjoy herself.

It still doesn't seem real to her some days, but she's become both a published author and some sort of role-model/ spokeswomen for teenage girls. Her book is now being published in numerous countries around the world and there is even talk of a film. People are interested in her story and what she says, as well as the stories she writes.

There are plans for a series of _Big Julie Criscoll_ novels and she has already written the second book. The publication date keeps being moved back due to continued success of the first book and she's planning time away to write book three later this year.

She's settled into bed and is starting to doze off when she hears her phone vibrating on the bedside table. She picks it up and is alarmed to see it is Candy calling. They keep in contact by email mostly, with the occasional meet-up when she's in the UK, so it is unusual for her to call, especially when she's away.

"Hello Candy... is everythin' ok?"

"I'm sorry to call, I know it is late for you."

"It's ok, I wasn't asleep. Are you ok?"

There's a hesitant pause, "No... it's Geraint."

She knows the answer to the question before she asks, "What's happened?"

She can hear the devastation in Candy's voice, "He's died too Molly... Killed in Afghan."

"Oh Candy. I'm sorry."

"They're bringing him back. I need to arrange the funeral..."

There is no hesitation in what she needs to do, "I'm comin' home. I'll get a flight first thing tomorrow. I will be with you in a couple of days."

"No, you're in the middle of your book tour."

"No. I'm comin'. I want to."

"I'd love that Molly. Thank you."

She puts the phone down and it's only then that she realises what this could mean. Whilst she doesn't know for sure, as she's never asked and has never been told, but it's quite possible that Geraint was still in his platoon, under his command. If that's the case, he'll be at the funeral and she'll have to face him. It's then that another, more horrific, scenario hits her... what if he's been injured or killed as well.

 _Hercules, enroute to RAF Lyneham_

He's sat at the front of the transport plane. It's uncomfortable and noisy and the mood is solemn amongst the remaining members of the section. They're all too aware of the duty which awaits them when they land at Lyneham; carrying the coffin from the plane and accompanying the cortege through the streets of Wootton Bassett. He also knows he will have to face Geraint's mother, once again mourning the death of her son.

This time, the death is on his hands. It had been his job to return Geraint and everyone in his command home safely. A job he's failed to do. They were almost at the end of their six month tour and he'd been getting increasingly distracted because it also signalled the return to the car-crash of his home life. He'd taken his eye off the ball, and Geraint had paid for it in the worst possible way.

They'd had intelligence that the Taliban were increasing their activity in the area around the FOB. They gone out on patrol and he'd sent Geraint, Fingers and Brains to check a suspicious building. They'd been caught by surprise, ambushed at the farthest point from the FOB. In the chaos that followed, Fingers and Brains had managed to get back to the relative safety of the rest of the section, but Geraint had been fatally shot as he retreated.

He'd known it was reckless and he was risking his life but in the moment he didn't care. He'd ordered the section to provide cover and he'd crawled 200 metres to recover the body. There was no way he was letting the Taliban have Geraint as a trophy. No-one in the Army, apart from him and Geraint, knew about their personal connection, and since Dylan's death and Molly's departure from his life neither had ever discussed it.

Major Beck, his CO, had balled him out afterwards, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was one hundred percent mistaken if he thought he was going to win any plaudits for his ridiculous and foolhardy act, but he hadn't cared. He'd taken the bollocking knowing that he would do it again.

He pulls out the dog-eared copy of her book. Aware that it probably looks odd, a grown man, a tough, war-weary Army Captain, carrying around a book aimed primarily at teenage girls, but he doesn't care. It calms him, having a small piece of her with him. He turns it over and looks at her picture. She looks happy and natural; her stunning green eyes leaping out of the page and she's smiling, that beautiful killer smile he still misses. He opens the front cover and reads the dedication for the thousandth time.

 _"To love lost, but always in my heart."_

The often asked about, in interviews, dedication, the dedication that everyone assumes refers to Dylan, the dedication that he secretly knows is to him.

Feeling at times like a creepy stalker, he's slavishly read every article written about her and watched every interview she's given, always looking for hidden meaning in her words, some indication that she's thinking about him. A year ago he had no idea where she was or what she was doing, now he can't escape her.

He doesn't know if she's still in contact with Candy, but if she is, then perhaps there is a small chance that something positive will come out of his latest fuck-up, perhaps he'll get to see her again.

He just wishes the circumstances were different.


	12. Chapter 12

**Wednesday 15 July 2010**

 _Battersea, London_

She unwraps the newspaper and is temporarily distracted from her unpacking by the contents. She holds the frame in her hands, staring at the photograph of her, Dylan and Charles taken at Elvis and Georgie's wedding.

Despite the sadness and heartache caused along the way, she's thankful to the two men in the picture who, for very different reasons, were the catalysts that enabled her to achieve everything she has done in the last few years. Her decision to leave, following Dylan's death and Charles getting married, had forced her to take control of her life, had allowed her the opportunity to start writing again and had ultimately given her the lucky break which had led to the publication of her book.

She certainly would not be here, in her newly acquired apartment overlooking Battersea Park, unpacking the boxes which have been stored away for the last three years. She would have married Dylan and whilst she would have been happy, she now knows that she would have been settling without fulfilling her potential.

Potential that one person has always believed in and encouraged. Many years ago, he'd once told her that she'd be brilliant, and although she'd seriously doubted it at the time, she has to admit that he'd been right.

The irony of the situation, that she'd ultimately needed to break from him to do so, was not lost on her.

But now, they're back in contact and have been cautiously, gradually rebuilding their relationship.

It started at Geraint's funeral. As soon as she saw him she knew she was ready and strong enough to have him back in her life and that this time he needed her.

She'd been at the front of the church, supporting a distraught Candy, when she first registered him carrying a corner of the coffin. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he took a seat, along with the rest of the soldiers, on the opposite side of the church. Despite his appearance, immaculately dressed in his No.2 dress uniform, wearing his best unemotional Captain face and respectfully acting out his part, she knew him too well, she could tell by the way he wouldn't meet her eye, that he was struggling.

Candy had asked him to read from Dylan Thomas' _Under Milk Wood_ during the service. He'd stood stiffly and stared fixedly at the back of the church. Although he'd delivered it beautifully, she'd recognised the strain in his voice as he held himself together.

After the service, she'd led Candy out of the church and he'd been there waiting in the churchyard to pay his respects. He'd come up to them still unable to look her in the eye, had opened his mouth to speak, but before he'd had a chance to say anything Candy had spoken to him with barely concealed disgust, "I gave the Army my boy. And they gave me back a flag."

He'd looked completely crushed and had tried to say something, but Candy had walked off and she'd had no choice but to follow. She'd looked back apologetically and finally he'd looked at her. She could see the anguish in his eyes before he regained composure. She'd given him a brief smile and he'd nodded in acknowledgement and she knew they'd taken the first steps back towards each other.

Later, at the wake, she'd been aware of where he was at all times and their eyes had met a few times. Eventually neither of them were in conversation with anyone else and instinctively they'd both headed outside. He'd got there first and as she had walked towards him she could tell that he was nervous. She'd stopped in front of him and there had been an awkward silence before they had both spoken at the same time, "Sorry."

He'd moved towards her, tentatively reaching out to hold gently by her upper arms, "You have nothing to apologise for. I'm the one who needs to apologise."

She'd been firm as she'd looked up at him, "No, I need to apologise for leavin' like I did."

He'd shaken his head sadly and sighed, "Christ. I need to apologise for a lot of things."

She'd shyly smiled at him, "We need to talk, but not now, not here."

He'd moved closer, enveloping her in a familiar strong hug, whispering in her ear. "I've missed you Dawesy."

In that moment, she was reminded of something he once said to her in happier times and as she returned his hug had murmured, "Ditto."

After a few moments, she had pulled away slightly, "Are you allowed to give me a hug? What with being in uniform and that?"

He'd pulled her back into his arms, hugging her even tighter, "I don't fucking care."

-x-

They'd met up again in London two weeks later. He'd picked her up from the hotel she was staying in and they'd just walked around Hyde Park, with her doing most of the talking, filling him in on the events of the last two years, carefully skating around the circumstances of her leaving.

Eventually he'd suggested they stop for a drink and they'd settled on a bench overlooking the Serpentine. He'd gone quiet and serious and she'd known what was coming and how she was going deal with it.

He'd started hesitantly, "So, can we talk about why you left now?"

She'd kept her voice steady, "You know why I left."

He'd looked and sounded guilt-ridden, "I'm so sorry Molly. I wish I'd told you about Rebecca and the baby that day in your kitchen, instead of running away like a coward. The truth is that after you told me how you felt about me, I didn't know how to tell you. I deeply regret the way you found out. I can only imagine how you felt."

She'd been honest, "It hurt, a lot. Still does, a little to be honest. But, it's in the past. There is nothin' I can do to change it. I've accepted yer married to Rebecca, that you have a child together."

He'd paused, seeming to take in what she was saying, "The thing is… when you told me you loved me I panicked because…."

She'd interrupted him, wanting to move the conversation on, "Look Charles, I'm sorry but I don't wanna go over it. I just want us to return to where we were. I want us to be friends again. I want you to forget what I said. It's the only way this can work."

He'd sounded almost pleading, "Molly, please just let…"

She'd interrupted again, "I mean it."

At that point, they'd been interrupted by a woman and two excited looking teenage girls.

"Excuse me? Sorry to interrupt, but are you Molly Dawes?"

She'd smiled graciously, "Yes, hi!"

"My daughters are absolutely huge fans. Would it be possible for them to have a picture with you?"

"Yes, of course."

By the time they'd taken the picture, had a chat and she'd said goodbye to the delighted family, he'd obviously accepted her request to move the conversation on and didn't try to bring the subject up again.

Instead, he'd teased her, "Look at you, a proper celebrity."

She'd laughed, "Dunno what you mean, mate."

He'd seemed impressed, "Seriously, does that happen often, Dawsey?"

"Nah, only a few times a day."

He'd been incredulous, "A few times a day?"

"No, you prannet. I'm only jokin'. Maybe once a week. I don't mind, it's kinda sweet really."

-x-

In August, she'd taken herself off to Paris for a planned three months to immerse herself in writing the first draft of book three.

When she'd returned to London, they'd met up in early November before she'd started the publicity tour for her second book.

She'd been a little bit shocked at his appearance having not seen him whilst she was away. She'd asked him if he was feeling alright and he'd told her he had a hangover, but she'd thought he looked pale and exhausted and like he'd lost some weight, making him look almost gaunt.

It was during this meeting that she'd finally asked him about his child. In the beginning, she'd been fine not asking, not knowing about this part of his life, but as they got back towards the closeness they'd once known she found it increasingly odd that he never talked about them and finally the curiosity was too much.

She'd opted for a direct approach, "So, tell me about yer child."

He'd looked surprised, had paused before starting, "I have a son, Sammie, he'll be two in December. He was born six weeks early and I missed the birth. I don't think I'm a very good father… something Rebecca reminds me of regularly."

She hadn't expected this. She'd always assumed he didn't talk about his home life to spare her feelings. She'd never entertained the idea that it might not be the picture of domestic bliss she'd always imagined. She hadn't contemplated that he might not be happy.

She hadn't been quite sure what to say, so had opted for something bland and safe, "They always say that first few years of parenthood are the hardest."

He'd looked like he was going to say something, then stopped himself.

She'd reached out to touch his arm reassuringly, "Hey, are you sure you're ok? You know you can talk to me about anythin'."

He'd been silent for a couple of minutes, before admitting, "It's just that I don't seem to be able to function at home. I'm not sleeping well…. I'm having nightmares about Afghan…. about Geraint's death."

She'd felt slightly out of her depth at this admission. He'd always been the strong one in their relationship. "Have you spoken to anyone in the Army, about this?"

He'd shaken his head, "No, you're the first person I've told. I just need to get back on tour and everything will be ok."

She'd gently challenged him, "Are you sure that's the answer?"

He'd sounded confident and determined, "Yes. I just need to get Christmas out of the way and then I'm off again in the New Year."

She'd not pressed him further, but had been worried about him. He wasn't quite the confident, self-assured person she remembered. He seemed to have lost his sparkle and become weary.

-x-

She'd been busy promoting her book for the rest of the year and had only seen him once again, briefly, before he left.

She'd been relieved that he'd looked better than he had the last time. He'd been excited about going back on tour and hadn't mentioned anything about how he was feeling, and she hadn't wanted to raise it, knowing that their time together was limited.

-x-

She takes the photo and places it on the mantelpiece. She kisses her fingers, before gently placing them over his face on the picture and smiles knowing he'll be back soon.

 _Forward operating base, Helmand, Afghanistan_

He's sat on his bed reading her second book. He's smiling because he can imagine her saying the lines.

He is so thankful that she's back in his life, that she's forgiven him for the mess he made of things after Dylan's death. She doesn't realise it, but she is the only thing which has kept him going over the last year. He'd begun to think that everyone would be safer and better off without him in their lives.

He'd been overwhelmed to see her at the funeral, hardly daring to look at her for fear of losing the small amount of composure he was managing to maintain.

He'd felt so fucking guilty for Geraint's death and had been terrified about facing Candy. He knew he owed it to Geraint to perform his duty and give him the send-off he deserved, but he'd seriously feared he might cock that up to.

It hadn't helped that his return home had been disastrous. Rebecca's contempt for him was worse than ever and she'd taken every opportunity to criticise him, question his decision making and undermine his confidence.

He'd not told Rebecca what had happened on the tour and she had not shown any interest in finding out, so he had been bottling it up, trying to deal with it on his own and failing spectacularly.

Whilst he'd been away, Rebecca had returned to work, leaving Sammie in the care of a nanny for hours on end. He'd hated this idea but knew he had no right to object. Sammie had not recognised him and had cried whenever he was left alone with him.

He knew it was his own fault, but he felt a stranger in his own home and more alone than ever before.

When he'd completed his official duties at the funeral, he had finally allowed himself to look at her properly. She'd been even more beautiful than he'd remembered her. The changes were subtle but effective; she was wearing her hair a little bit shorter, her physique had become noticeably fitter. Her clothes were finer and she wore a small amount of make-up which enhanced her best features and made her stunning green eyes look even brighter and bigger than normal. She was a more grown-up, sophisticated, polished version of the person he knew. When she had smiled at him, even though it had been a brief, apologetic smile, everything he'd ever felt for her had come back stronger than ever.

During the wake, he'd known where she was at all times and had felt hope each time their eyes had met. Later, when they'd both found each other outside and he'd apologised and finally hugged her, he'd held onto her for dear life and not wanted the moment to end, ever.

The next time they'd met up he'd tried to tell her how he felt about her, but she'd not let him do so and had made it clear that she didn't want to discuss the circumstances of her leaving any further. He'd been too petrified of her leaving him again that he had acquiesced.

As he'd watched her deal with her fame in a confident but kind way, he could see how much she had moved on. He'd doubted that, even if he had told her how he felt, she would have been willing to take on someone as broken as him.

And then she'd been gone for three long months, writing her third book in Paris. She'd explained that she needed to immerse herself in writing with no distractions; there had been no invite to visit and she'd had no plans to come back during this time. He'd had no option but to wait out for her return.

The nightmares had started a few weeks after the funeral. He'd relive the moment of Geraint's death over and over again. He'd relive crawling towards the lifeless body, always arriving too late. His timing always wrong. As time went on the nightmares changed and it would be Molly being shot. He'd send her to her death and never get there quick enough to save her.

When they'd met up again on her return from Paris, he'd known that he looked dreadful and had made up some excuse about being hungover.

When she'd surprised him, and asked him to tell her about Sammie he'd been so close to telling her that his marriage was a mistake. That he didn't love Rebecca. That he never had. That he'd married her out of some misguided notion of duty and he regretted it every fucking day. He'd almost told her that he loved her. That he always had. But when it came to it, he just couldn't do it. They were finally getting on and talking. He was too much of an emotional wreck. He didn't trust his judgement. He wouldn't risk jeopardising the fragile recovery of their relationship.

He'd known he had PTSD. He recognised the symptoms. Christ, he'd been trained in what to look out for and had seen it affect other soldiers. He hadn't had any intention of telling her, of telling anyone, but when she'd pressed him on whether he was really alright, it had sort of just slipped out.

He'd told her he was having trouble sleeping and that he was having nightmares. He hadn't told her about the content of the nightmares, that he dreamed about losing her. He'd played it down and thought he'd got away with it. He'd believed it when he'd said he just needed to get back on tour.

The last time he'd seen her, he had felt a bit better, definitely more energised and was looking forward to getting back on tour and away from the suffocation of his unhappy marriage. He knew that it also meant leaving her, but that she was going to be busy with the promotion of her books and starting work on the film screen-play. The fact that she was back in his life was enough to keep him going.

He's interrupted by his Sergeant, clearing his throat and knocking on the tent. He turns to the front of the book, takes a quick look at the dedication, once again much debated in interviews and once again written for him.

 _"Stay focussed. Stay alert. Stay alive."_

He turns over to the back cover, and looks at her picture. He quickly kisses his fingers, before gently placing them over her face on the picture and smiles knowing he'll see her again soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thursday 15 July 2011**

 _Somewhere in the Berkshire countryside_

She watches the countryside flash by as the 09.35 London to Swansea train heads west. She's anxiously fiddling with her hair, preparing herself for the potentially difficult, and somewhat overdue, conversation she's going to have to have today.

His return from tour last summer hadn't quite happened as she'd expected.

She'd just arrived in New York for the start of a short two-week book tour and had been running around Central Park in an attempt to allay her jetlag when the call from an unrecognised number had come up. As was customary, to preserve her privacy, she'd allowed it to go to voicemail. She usually listened to these messages later, sometimes days later, but some gut instinct had made her listen to this one straight away.

She'd recognised the voice instantly, even though she'd not heard it in over three years.

"Molly, it's Elvis Harte. Please call me back on this number as soon as you get this message."

She'd known of course that there was only one reason why Elvis would be calling her out of the blue. She'd hesitantly pressed call back, already feeling nauseous, and waited for the inevitable bad news.

"Elvis? What's happened?"

"He's been seriously injured. He's being transferred back to the UK at the moment. Where are you?"

"I'm in New York. About to start a book tour."

"Are you able to come back? I'm sorry, I can't tell you much, but he's not in a good way."

"Text me the details of where he is being taken and I'll get there as soon as possible."

Any composure she'd maintained during the call, evaporated as soon as she'd hung up. She'd unceremoniously thrown up and then run straight back to the hotel, packed her bag, checked out and was already on the airplane taxiing down the runway before she'd remembered to call her publisher and explain the situation. They'd been less than pleased with her cancelling publicity once again, little more than a year after the last time, but she hadn't cared. She'd been pretty vociferous that there was only one thing important to her in that moment and it wasn't her bleeding books and if they didn't like it she would be happy to find another publisher.

She'd managed to calm down a little during the journey, aided by a couple of large vodka and cokes. By the time she'd landed at Heathrow, she'd had a text from Elvis with details of where he had been taken.

She'd been planning on getting a taxi but when she'd come out of arrivals a driver had been waiting, organised by her publisher, with instructions to take her wherever she needed to get to. She'd given him the address of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham and settled into an anxious silence, making a mental note to apologise to her publisher for her previous diva-like behaviour.

She'd arrived at ICU ward a couple of hours later and been surprised to find Rebecca, not Elvis waiting for her.

Rebecca had nodded at her in welcome, "Molly."

"Rebecca. How is he?"

She'd sounded almost robotic, "He had to be resuscitated three times. He's just got back from theatre, emergency surgery for an unexpected bleed. He's stable now, but critical."

She'd genuinely felt pain for Rebecca, who seemed to be in shock, "Oh Rebecca. I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

She'd been confused as to why Rebecca was apologising to her, "What do you mean?"

"It was you he was asking for as he was arresting."

She wasn't sure how to interpret this statement, she needed clarification, "What?"

Rebecca had spoken carefully, without any hint of emotion, "It's always been you he's wanted. I knew from the way he talked about you before I even met you at your housewarming party. I've always known he didn't love me, that he only married me because he felt a duty to do so when I got pregnant. He's tried so hard and I've been a complete bitch to him since the start. To be honest I'd expected him to walk, but he kept going on tour and then coming back."

"I don't know what to say..."

"I'm going to go now you're here. It's time to put our marriage out of its misery. He's all yours."

And then she'd walked away without a backwards glance, leaving her standing at the window of the ICU room, staring at his sedated body covered with tubes and monitoring equipment, questioning everything she thought she knew and understood about him.

Sometime later she'd felt someone come up close behind her.

"Is the coast clear?"

She'd turned around to face him, "Shittin' hell Elvis. Will you ever stop sneakin' up on people?"

He'd given her one of his cocky winks, "Has the Ice Queen left?"

She'd smiled knowing that she too had used the same nickname in her head in the past, but given Rebecca's recent confession she also felt she had to defend her, "We're not wholly bad or good, Elvis."

He'd shrugged and looked nonchalant, "Whatever, but all I know is that she has made Charlie's life fucking miserable for the last three years."

He'd then given her a quick, slightly awkward hug. "Hey, it's good to see you. Miss Published Author and all-round fucking celebrity."

She'd rolled her eyes at him, "You've still got a way with words I see."

They'd stood together looking into the ICU room for a while before she'd asked, "What happened Elvis?"

He'd sighed, and it looked like he was considering what to tell her, "It was supposed to be a straightforward extraction, but we were betrayed and Charlie ended up getting shot in the abdomen and leg. It was a fucking mess Molly."

"You were there?"

He'd sighed again, sounding apologetic, "Yes, and there was nothing I could do…. Thank fuck for Georgie."

She couldn't comprehend what Georgie had to do with it. She'd felt sure he would have mentioned if Georgie was going on tour with him, "Georgie?"

"Yes, she was his medic. She'd only just arrived in Afghan as the section's replacement medic - something to do with an appendicitis, I don't know. Anyway, from what I saw and have been told, she saved his life." He'd added proudly, "That's my girl."

"Shittin' hell."

After a while, Elvis had guided her to the metal seats outside the ICU room, indicating she should sit down and rest. He'd gone quiet and by the way he was fidgeting she'd felt that he wanted to say something, but was struggling to find the words to get started.

"Spit it out Elvis."

He'd hesitated briefly, "You know he loves you, don't you?"

She'd closed her eyes and breathed out slowly, calming herself, "You're the second person to tell me that today."

"Well, it's true and from what I've gathered from Charlie, you feel the same."

She was a little taken back that Charles had confided in Elvis about this. She wondered how much else he knew, "I did. I do. But..."

"Look Molly. He's gonna need you. He's got a long recovery ahead of him."

She wasn't convinced that Elvis was just talking about physical recovery, "How did he seem in Afghan, you know before this happened?"

Elvis hadn't hesitated, "Fragged. I was worried."

He'd put his arm around her and pulled her towards him so that she'd rested her head on his shoulder, "Look, he's going to be out for the next few hours. You should get some rest, you look exhausted. When did you last sleep anyway?"

When he'd mentioned rest, she'd realised just how tired she was. She was starting to doze off, "He is goin' to be ok, isn't he Elvis?"

He'd gently kissed her head, "I don't know, but I fucking hope so after he's got everyone running around after him."

-x-

She'd been awoken by Elvis gently shaking her, "Wake-up Molly, he's awake. You can go in and see him."

She'd stood up and looked through the window of the ICU room. He'd been propped up on some pillows and she could see that the ventilator tube had been removed. It was almost as though he had sensed her presence because at that moment he had turned his head towards her and smiled weakly, beckoning her in with a slight nod of his head.

She'd entered the room and gone to stand by his bed, "How did you know I was here?"

He'd grinned at her, "I'm not sure you are…. morphine."

She'd smiled at him, "Well, I'm drug free and I can see you so…. I guess I must be here."

He'd moved his hand slightly, inviting her to sit down on the bed. She'd sat and picked up his hand.

He'd looked at her, his eyes searching her face, "Molly….."

"Shh, we can talk when yer stronger."

She'd felt him tighten his grip on her hand, "No, I need to say this… I don't want to wait out any longer….. I've wasted too many years already…... I love you."

She'd squeezed his hand and smiled, "Ditto."

He'd slowly lifted his other arm, reached over and placed his hand behind her head and pulled her towards him placing a deep kiss on her lips. She'd responded, opening her mouth enough for him to gently explore her tongue with his. Eventually they'd pulled apart and she'd shyly looked at him, biting her lip, her body buzzing with excitement.

She'd spoken first, "You don't know how many times I've wanted us to do that over the years."

He'd laughed, "I think I do actually."

He'd pulled her closer and she'd settled alongside him on the bed, under his arm, in a hug. After a little while, she'd felt him relax and had whispered into his chest, "You're not gonna fall asleep on me again are you?"

He'd replied dozily, "Quite possibly" before drifting off.

She'd stayed nestled in his arms for the rest of the day, not wanting to leave him for even a minute.

Eventually, Elvis had persuaded her that he really wasn't going anywhere this time and that she really needed to have a break, get some food and would benefit from freshening up.

-x-

He shifts himself in the train seat, stretching out his leg, ignoring the dull-ache which appears whenever he sits in the same position for too long. He's conscious that the closer they get to their destination, the more nervous she's getting.

He reaches over and gently takes her non-fiddling hand, entwining his long fingers with hers before leaning forward and placing a light kiss on the back of her hand.

He looks at her, full of concern, "You ok?"

She smiles at him, seeming grateful for this little loving gesture, "Not really. I'm shittin' meself."

"I'm with you, I'll be 100% by your side."

"I know you are, you're sat next to me on the bleedin' train."

"You know what I mean."

"I do. Thank you."

She leans over and kisses him, and despite this being a quick kiss in a very public place, he feels the same euphoric desire spreading through his body he feels every time their lips meet. A year into their new relationship he's more in love with her than he ever believed or thought possible. So much so, that sometimes it scares him, makes him fear for his mental health again.

The last year has been tough in terms of recovery, but also full of wonderful rediscovery.

She'd been there from the start thanks to Elvis taking the initiative, searching her out and getting her to the hospital.

He'd not quite believed his eyes when he'd seen her stood outside the ICU room. His memory of that first conversation is a little hazy, but he'd known that he couldn't leave it any longer, he had to tell her how he felt about her. He remembers kissing her and experiencing that now familiar feeling for the first time.

He'd been in hospital for a month and during that time they'd not talked about what they were doing, about the direction their relationship was now heading. Once they'd both known how the other one felt, they'd both sought almost constant close physical contact. She'd barely left his side during his hospital stay, spending hours snuggled up beside him on his bed.

As his discharge date approached, she'd suggested that he come and stay at her new place in Battersea, but he had already decided that he would go home to his parent's house in Bath. This had been their first disagreement. She'd argued it made more sense for him to be with her, as he'd be closer to his physio sessions at Headley Court. He'd reasoned that she couldn't spend all her time ferrying him back and forth and besides as far as he knew, she couldn't actually drive. He'd said that he didn't want to be totally dependent on her, she'd told him that she didn't care if he was. He'd pointed out that she'd been neglecting her book promotion and she'd stated that was her decision and that despite being a massive cockwomble, for getting so seriously injured, he was the most important thing to her.

Instead, she'd accompanied him back to his parent's house and essentially moved herself in. Again, they didn't really talk about what was happening, just accepted that this was their new reality. Unsurprisingly, and without question, his parents had welcomed her back into their home and lives, once again treating her like the daughter they never had.

It was that first night, after discharge, once his parents had discreetly taken themselves off to bed uncharacteristically early that they had finally made love. The expectation had been steadily building and they'd been finding it increasingly difficult to keep their hands off each other in hospital.

As soon as his father had closed the living room door, leaving them truly alone for the first time, she'd turned to him with a wicked grin, "This has to be some sort of bleedin' record for the longest foreplay ever."

He'd laughed so hard that his abdomen wound had hurt. Memories of a conversation they'd once had many years ago returned, "Well, it's important to know who you're sleeping with."

She'd smiled, clearly remembering too, "You're a bit previous there, mate."

He'd pulled her gently into his lap, kissing her deeply on the lips, "Are you tempted?"

She'd kissed him, before pulling back slightly, "Hold that thought, I just need to go pee."

He'd thrown his head back, closed his eyes and groaned, "Christ, Molly. You're killing me."

Realising she'd not moved, he'd opened his eyes to her grinning face, "Just jokin'."

He'd still been in quite a lot of pain and his movement was restricted in those early days, so their love making was gentle, careful and slow but always incredibly intense. As his health strengthened, they discovered each other in more passionate, physical and urgent ways as their connection to one other became deeper and further inextricably entwined.

Another couple might have found this too intense, but after so many lost years, it seemed to suit them both fine for a while.

Initially, his mental health seemed much improved, he'd assumed buoyed by his happiness at finally being with her. But a few weeks after being home the old nightmares had started again. He'd wake up screaming, soaked in sweat. The first time she'd clearly been terrified that something physically was wrong him. Once he'd assured her that he was ok in that way, she'd been amazing. She'd hold him, calm him, help him back to sleep.

Although everyone kept telling him that his physical recovery was going well, he found himself doubting that he'd get back to normal and felt a fog descending, impacting his decision making and confidence.

After a couple of weeks, she'd challenged him one morning when they were alone in his parent's house, "I think you need to speak to someone about your nightmares."

He'd instinctively pushed back, "I'll be alright, it's nothing to be worried about."

She'd pressed on, "Well, I am worried….. and so is Elvis."

He'd not been able to contain his anger and had raised his voice, "You've spoken to Elvis about this?"

She'd remained calm and focussed, "Yes, and we both think you need to speak to someone."

He'd felt betrayed and caught out, and to his shame had shouted at her, "I can't believe you spoke to Elvis about me."

She'd still remained calm and had merely raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm not sure you can take offence at that."

He'd stormed off, mostly furious with himself for how he had just handled that conversation, which he knew would have taken guts for her to have. He wasn't angry with her, he knew that she had every right to be concerned about him. He was worried about himself, but couldn't figure out how to get better.

She'd left him to his sulking for a while but eventually sought him out. She'd come up to him, slipped her arms around his waist, "Don't be a grumpy arse. I love you, but I'm worried about you."

He'd buried his head in her shoulder, "I'm sorry I shouted. I'm not sure what I'm doing sometimes."

She'd hugged him reassuringly, "I've read about PTSD, I think you're displaying some of the symptoms. It's completely understandable given everything you've been through."

He'd admitted his fear, "I'm scared Molly."

She'd pulled back, cupped his face with her hands and pulled his head towards hers, "I know. Me too. Please talk to someone."

He'd covered her hands with his and nodded, "I will."

She'd looked squarely into his eyes, "Do you promise?"

He'd returned her gaze, "I promise."

It had taken courage, but later that day, with her by his side literally holding his hand, he had called Major Beck and asked for help. The next time he was at Headley Court for physiotherapy he'd had his first psychiatrist appointment. He'd been recommended for counselling with CBT and over the next few months he learnt about his triggers, developed coping strategies and gradually started to feel better.

Seven months after his injury he'd been discharged from both his physical and mental rehabilitation and had been cleared as fit to return to active service.

As his health had improved, she'd started to work again, but had refused to travel abroad and never stayed away for more than a night or two.

Whilst his clearance for active service was a much welcome milestone, it had presented a tricky logistical problem for them. They'd both known that the bubble they'd been living in would eventually have to end, that they'd have to figure out a way to move forward which would work for both their careers and other commitments.

He'd offered to resign his commission and leave the Army, but she had been horrified by that idea. He'd been a little bit hurt that she'd rejected his grand gesture, but she'd patiently explained to him that she would only accept that was what he truly wanted if he went back and still felt the same in a year.

He was to be stationed back at Aldershot, so reluctantly had moved back into barracks during the week. They spent their weekends together split between her flat in London and his parent's house in Bath.

Rebecca had filed for divorce shortly after she'd left him in hospital and the decree absolute had been issued 2 months ago. He'd been granted access to Sammie every other weekend, which they always spent in Bath.

Sammie was young enough to adapt and had become used to the new arrangements surprisingly quickly. He'd always been happy spending time with his grandparents and no longer cried when he was left alone with him. He'd easily accepted Molly and they'd become firm friends.

-x-

Despite her teasing of him, she's really very glad that he'd insisted on coming with her today. They'd had words about it, but he'd won out.

Not for the first time, she marvels that after years of longing for him and then very nearly losing him, this supportive and completely flipping gorgeous man is hers.

She wonders what Candy's reaction will be to the news that they're together. Their friends and family took it with hardly a bat of an eyelid. The word "finally" might have been mentioned once or twice.

She hopes, but isn't sure, that Candy will be quite so accepting.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you for staying with the story and for all your lovely reviews …. so they're finally together (yah!) Still got a few more years to go… prepare for some fluff… I think they (well we) deserve it…**

 **Friday 15 July 2012**

 _Battersea, London_

She stands in front of the large mirror in her hallway checking her appearance. She's pleased with what she sees, noting how the stunning green dress brings out her eyes.

He comes up behind her, places his hands on her hips, takes a long lustful look at her in the mirror and starts placing gentle kisses on her neck and along her shoulders.

She has a familiar sensation of tightening between her legs and feels them becoming weak. She lets out an involuntary groan as one of his hands moves from her hips towards her breast and she leans back into him.

Half-heartedly, she protests, "Stop it."

She can feel him hardening behind her as he pushes against her.

She's undeniably enjoying this sensory assault, but regretfully needs him to halt, "Stop it. I can't be bleedin' late."

He slows down his sweet caresses before stepping back from her, sulkily muttering, "You shouldn't look so bloody beautiful then."

She turns around and gasps at the sight of him in his tux.

"Shittin' hell Charles, how am I gonna keep my hands off you tonight?"

He adjusts the tent in his trousers and is not entirely joking when he says, "Well unless you want to see it splashed across the bloody tabloids, I'd suggest you try."

She smirks at that thought and launches herself at him, "Seems a shame to waste that. Might gonna have to be quick."

He lifts her up easily and she wraps her legs around his waist as he backs her up against the nearest wall, "Yes ma'am."

-x-

When Candy had sold her story to a certain Sunday tabloid, things had become a little bit crazy for a while.

Whatever anger or bitterness had caused her to do it, whatever revenge she'd been hoping to achieve, it had spectacularly backfired. Rather than being vilified in the press as some sort of heartless bitch, her and Charles' 'love' story had captured hearts and there had been a short period of extreme interest in their lives.

She'd suspected that someone at her publisher might have stoked the story more than it probably warranted, but the fact that they were a beautiful couple probably hadn't helped. The rags to riches aspect of her history had always been of interest in publicity interviews and the latest twist which saw her in a relationship with "handsome Captain Posh", was too good to be ignored.

Despite the fact that she had never actively embraced or encouraged the celebrity side of her fame, they became a story, people of interest. She'd always assiduously guarded her privacy and managed to live below the tabloid radar, so it had been a bit of a shock to them both.

Thankfully, the excitement had passed relatively quickly. Normality and relative anonymity had resumed, except that Charles had a new nickname, much to his dismay but Elvis' extreme pleasure.

All had been quiet for months, but the imminent launch of the much-anticipated feature film of the first Julie Criscoll book had renewed interest.

Tonight, at the world premiere, they will be very much on show and in the limelight.

-x-

The car pulls up outside the Odeon Leicester Square and she's completely taken aback by the crowds and assembled press.

She contemplates asking the driver to turn around and take them straight back home, "Shittin' hell."

He laughs at her, mimicking her accent, "Shittin' hell indeed Dawsey."

"Do you think we can sneak in around the back?"

He squeezes her hand, "What and disappoint your adoring public? Come on. Shall we do this?"

He gets out of the car and walks around to her door, chivalrously offering her a hand with a highly amused grin on his face.

She takes a deep breath, calms her nerves and fixes a big smile onto her face as she steps out of the car onto the red carpet, clinging onto his arm for dear life.

-x-

As the final scene ends and her name comes up in huge letters as the credits start to roll, he turns to her and whispers, "That was fucking awesome Dawsey."

Then the audience is on its feet, with the cast and production team receiving a standing ovation. For the next hour or so everyone wants to shake her hand, congratulate her and talk to her. He watches from a distance, marvelling at how much she has achieved, but yet how modest she is about her success. It's no wonder that the press bloody love her, she is so natural, charming and funny. However, what he still marvels about the most is that, over everything else, she's chosen him.

His life has been transformed by having her in it. Two years ago he was broken physically and mentally, but her love and support has been unconditional. He is grateful to her for encouraging him to stay in the Army. He has regained his confidence and once again become the strong and assertive man he used to be. A man that people look up to and respect. A man who can inspire and lead. A Captain who has just been promoted to Major.

She catches his eye and smiles. He winks at her. She nods her head, inviting him to come over and join her. As he approaches, she takes his hand pulling him close alongside her.

She looks a bit anxious, "You ok?"

He grins at her, "Sure. I'm was enjoying the view."

"I'm sorry if it's a bit borin' for you."

He squeezes her hand and reassures her, "Hey, it's not boring for me. This is your night. You've deserved it. I'm just happy and honoured to be here with you."

-x-

Much later, they're sat cuddled together on a small rattan sofa on the balcony of her flat, looking out over Battersea Park and the London night skyline sharing a bottle of wine.

He kisses the top of her head, "Well, that was definitely one of the more surreal evenings of my life."

"I know, it was a bit mad, weren't it. Fun though, but I'm glad to be home. I'm not sure I'm ever gonna get used to that sort of attention."

"You're a natural at it. I said you'd be brilliant, all those years ago, and I was right."

"Alright, no need to be so bleedin' smug about it. Anyway, you're not doin' so shabbily yerself….. Major James."

They sit in companionable silence for a little while before he shifts position to look at her. She senses a small change in his mood, he's become more serious.

He traces the line of her face with his hand, "You know what the date is today?"

For some reason she's starting to feel a bit nervous, "Of course... it's St. Swithin's Day."

He looks at her in mock exasperation, "and..."

She smiles at him, "and it's our anniversary... Thirteen years ago today we nearly got it together."

He snorts with laughter, "We've never talked about what happened that night... you seemed so into me and then you weren't."

"Well I seem to remember you fell asleep."

He sounds suitably chastised, "Yes, not my finest moment. But later on, in the morning, when you came back into the room after your shower, you didn't seem so keen."

"Oh, I was keen... very keen, but... well, looking back it's kind of silly..."

"What was silly?"

"My period had started."

He's incredulous, "What?"

"My period started and I was too embarrassed to tell you. So there. Now you know."

He laughs remembering how he'd felt, "Shit. I thought you'd sobered up and decided against me."

"No, not at all. Why do you think I suggested we spend the day together?"

He leans over and kisses her, "I'm so glad you did..."

She responds to his kiss and much to her annoyance after a little while he pulls away, "I've been a bit neglectful on the anniversary gifts in recent years..."

She doesn't care and wants to get back to kissing him, "No matter."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box, "Well, I was hoping that this might make up for it..."

He opens up the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring, "Molly. Will you marry me?"

She squeals with almost childish delight before climbing onto his lap, excitedly grabbing his face and kissing him fiercely on the lips. "Yes... Yes, I bleedin' will."


	15. Chapter 15

**Saturday 15 July 2013 – PART I**

 _Lake Garda, Italy_

"You may kiss the bride."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He gently cups her face, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, leans down and kisses her tenderly on the lips.

The assembled guests break into spontaneous applause, which seems to go on for a little bit longer than is strictly normal.

As the applause dies down, they pull apart simultaneously, giving each other massive grins, both absolutely knowing, without a shadow of a doubt that, after so many years of missed opportunities, this is exactly where they should be.

He steps back a pace to take a long look at her, taking her hands in his. She's chosen a subtle but stunning, figure hugging white dress and a pair of silver heels which add at least three inches to her height. She's wearing her hair down and curled just how she knows he likes it. She looks perfect but he knows better than to call her that, "You look simply beautiful Molly."

She gives him a bashful smile, "Thank you husband. You don't look too shabby yerself, but who are you calling simple?"

He laughs and kisses her again, oblivious to everyone else watching.

They'd not planned to have a year-long engagement. When he'd proposed they'd discussed a winter wedding, but it soon became apparent that plan was going to be tricky.

He'd known that it had to happen sooner or later, that he'd needed it to happen, but still when it did, he'd felt fearful of how it would be going back and whether he'd be able to cope.

She'd taken the news that he was being deployed back to Afghanistan far better than he'd expected. Rather than rant and rave at him like Rebecca would have done, she had simply asked him how he felt about it. He'd been honest and told her that he was scared, but wanted to go, needed to go to prove to himself that he could do it. He'd told her that in the past he'd been running away from his life when he went on tour, but that this time if felt like he was abandoning those he loved and cared about and that terrified him. She'd held him and kissed him and told him he'd be brilliant. She told him she'd wait out for him, that she'd always be there for him. At the time, he'd had a feeling she was putting on a brave face for his sake.

It was a few days before his deployment that he woke up in the middle of the night to find their bed empty. He'd found her sat on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, quietly weeping to herself. His heart had broken a little, knowing that he was almost certainly the cause of her upset. He'd always hated seeing her cry and realised that since they'd been together she hadn't done so.

He'd crept onto the sofa beside her and gathered her into her arms, stroking her hair and soothing her. She'd begged him to be careful but never once asked him not to go. He loved her even more because of it. She didn't try to change his mind or make him feel guilty for going, she just asked that he come back to her.

And so, it was that he went back on tour mid-September. Returning to Afghanistan as a Major meant that he was less at the front-line on a day to day basis than in previous tours and although very conscious that he was still in a warzone, he had to admit that it felt safer than being constantly out on patrol. His time was split between Camp Bastion and a couple of FOBs. His Captains were experienced, but some of the soldiers were very green and there was plenty to do. He couldn't deny that it felt good to be back in action and for him the time passed relatively quickly.

Although he was able to call and Facetime her regularly, he also got back into the habit of writing letters to her. Part description of his daily life, part love letter. He was rewarded by similar, but much funnier, letters from her which were often the highlight of his week.

When it became apparent that realistically they'd need to wait out until the following summer to get married there was of course, only one date which they could choose. The where proved harder to decide. Although a London girl, she wasn't that bothered about having a London ceremony. His parents had suggested Bath, but neither were totally sold on that idea as they were a little concerned that his mum wouldn't be able to resist inviting her friends and would take over the proceedings, be it in a well-meaning way.

Although it was only going to be a small intimate wedding for their close friends and family, with no celebrity guests, they were both a bit wary about the prospect of press intrusion in the UK. They'd both agreed that it would be a civil service and informal; she didn't want a traditional church and he had no desire to go through another formal military style wedding. He'd flippantly suggested they run away and get married on a beach somewhere with a couple of witnesses dragged off the street. It was that comment which had given her the idea about Lake Garda and using his parent's holiday home. It would allow his mum to be involved, but very much on their terms. She'd loved the place all those years ago when they'd holidayed there together after his first tour and he'd agreed it would be perfect.

-x-

With the ceremony complete, they're gathered in the grounds of the house enjoying a glass of champagne. There is a clinking of glasses as Elvis attempts to get everyone's attention for the speeches.

They're stood together facing the guests, holding hands. As everyone is starting to settle down she turns to him and whispers in his ear, "As I've married a soldier, I've decided to go commando today."

It takes all his restraint to not spit out his mouthful of champagne as he lets out a huge burst of surprised laughter.

She takes his hand and places it behind her back on her bottom. He can feel himself hardening at the thought of what he'd like to do to her right now, "Christ Dawesy. What are you trying to do to me?"

She winks at him and smiles sweetly, "Nothing, just thought you'd like to know."

He groans in frustration. He kisses her again, which elicits applause and cheering from their guests and some time for him to will his body to behave.

Despite having known her for so many years, she has the amazing capacity to surprise him at every turn.

Their future living arrangements being another example. They'd been doing the London & Bath weekend commute for well over 18 months and whilst she'd never complained, he was finding it miserable being apart from her during the week. He was still living in barracks but would always sneak up to London midweek to spend the night if ever the opportunity presented itself. Years of Army life meant he was an early riser and he never tired of waking up with her alongside him. He could happily watch her sleep for hours, but loved it more when she'd start to stir and become sleepily responsive to his wake-up kisses, strokes and love making. He didn't have much motivation to get out of bed when she was with him.

Whilst on tour he'd been trying to come up with a better option for them all but hadn't been successful.

He knew that at heart she was a city girl, so had been trying to figure out a way for them to live in London together. He'd been putting feelers out about roles at the MOD in Whitehall, but had been told that he was too junior a Major to expect one of those coveted roles just yet.

Rebecca had indicated that if he had a place of his own then she would be amenable to increasing his visitation rights. He suspected this was only part of the reason, as five year-old Sam had mentioned that "Mummy had a new friend, a soldier like you Daddy". Rebecca had only given him brief details when he'd asked her about it, but he gathered that the new friend was called John and she was quite keen on him. He'd been surprised that she was seeing another soldier, but had kept his opinion to himself.

In the end, Molly had resolved the decision about where they should live in her own way.

He'd been back from tour for a couple of weeks when she'd suggested a Saturday morning drive to a country pub she'd read about and had booked for lunch. He should have been suspicious as in retrospect she was quite mysterious about where they were going and had been uncharacteristically vague about the plan. As she'd refused to tell him where they were going, he'd been unable to use the GPS and she'd insisted on navigating using her phone. They'd even had a bit of an argument when she'd supposedly got them lost en-route and he'd got all macho about his superior map reading skills.

After a frustrating time driving around country lanes in what he was convinced was a massive circle and had completely disorientated him, she'd suggested he stop the car in a small village and ask for directions. He'd been thoroughly exasperated by this point, particularly as she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely and doing her best to wind him up.

She'd opened her car door and said, "Well what do you think?"

He'd huffily replied, "I think we're bloody lost and I shouldn't have entrusted map reading to you."

She'd been annoyingly breezy, "As we're here, let's just have a walk around. Looks like a nice place."

He'd looked at his watch, "We don't have time for a walk around, we'll be late for our lunch reservation."

She'd ignored his objection, "Na, we'll be alright. Come on, let's explore."

"Why would you want to explore a random village?"

She'd ignored his question, "Stop being a grumpy arse. Come on."

He'd realised he was being a prat and had got out of the car, taken her offered hand and followed her as she wandered off down a random lane.

After a few minutes, they'd come to an idyllic beautiful cottage, which looked like something out of a House & Home magazine. She'd stopped in front of it, "Wow, look at this place."

"It's lovely isn't it."

"Can you imagine livin' somewhere like that?"

"I can imagine it, but not sure it will ever happen."

"Doesn't look like anyone is around, shall we just go and have a peek?"

"Dawesy, you can't just go and have a peek at someone's house."

"Really? Why not?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

Before he could stop her, she'd gone up to the front door. He'd been thoroughly confused and slightly alarmed at her behaviour until she pulled a key from her bag and said, "Oooh, look what I've found!"

Realisation had started to dawn on him, "You haven't?"

She'd giggled, "I bleedin' well have. It's only rented mind you, I'm not completely bonkers despite what you might have been thinkin' …. However, the owners are thinkin' about sellin' and have promised me we'll have first refusal. Turns out their daughter is one of my biggest fans. Anyway, come on, come and take a look at our new home."

Of course, he'd loved it. It was an old cottage but had been lovingly renovated in recent years and was a perfect mix of old charm with modern touches. There were four bedrooms so space enough for Sam to have a permanent room, plus rooms for guests. The only downside from his perspective was a few low doorways which he knew he'd learn to duck through after hitting his head the first few times.

He'd been even more surprised to find out that due to her expert subterfuge on the way, it was actually only a 20-minute drive to base and the same to the nearest train station. The village was well equipped with a general store and a friendly pub.

They'd been sat on a bench at the end of the garden, looking back towards the cottage when he'd realised another downside to the place, "This is great Dawesy, but I can see one major problem with your brilliant plan…. how are you going to live her without being able to drive?"

She'd just looked at him with a glint in her eye, "Ah well, that's not a problem because whilst you were away playin' soldiers I also took some drivin' lessons and passed my test first time. Thank you very much."

He'd earnt a playful punch from her when he'd come back with, "Lovely. You can drive home then and I can have a pint at lunch."

-x-

Elvis is patiently waiting for everyone to settle down again.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Girls and boys. Sorry to interrupt your conversations but we've decided to get all the formal bits of the day out of the way early so we can all enjoy the party.

As I'm sure most of you are aware that Charles & Molly first met 14 years ago on this very day, on the night of their graduation.

What followed was a number of years of not quite getting it together romantically but becoming the very best of friends. It all went a bit Pete Tong along the way on more than one occasion. At this point I'd like to propose a toast ….. to absent friends.

They say the path of true love doesn't always run smooth and I think it can safely be said that this applies to these two.

It's taken them a while to get to where they are today, but I think you'll agree that all good things come to those who wait out.

I'd known Charlie for almost a year before he introduced me to Molly. I'd heard so much about his 'best friend' but I honestly thought there must be something wrong with her... because she showed absolutely no interest in me whatsoever.

It's fitting that we're celebrating their marriage in this place, a place which holds so many happy memories for the two of them. Molly, I believe this is the place that you developed the 'Rules of Engagement' and Charlie, I have to ask, are you planning on doing any skinny dipping tonight?

Now, before I get in any more trouble, please join me in raising a glass to the happy couple, Charles and Molly, Mr and Mrs James."

-x-

As the applause dies down he becomes aware of the expectant silence. He clears his throat and gathers his thoughts.

"Thank you, Elvis. I'm going to keep this short as I think I need to speak to my beautiful wife and find out more about these so-called 'Rules of Engagement'…."

He pauses to allow the laughter to stop, gives her a filthy wink and is surprised to see that she's looking a little flushed, showing the tell-tale, but not often seen signs of embarrassment.

"Molly and I would like to thank you all for coming to Italy to share our special day. Thank you to everyone who has helped us with the preparations and arrangements. Special thanks to my parents for letting us use their beautiful house.

Molly, when we first met, you talked about your hopes to make a difference, to change the world around you for the better. Your success as an author has shown that you've already smashed that. Your books have brought joy to and inspired confidence in innumerable people."

He removes from his pocket his much loved, dog-eared copy of her first novel.

"Sadly, I wasn't in your life when you first became published, but I carried your first book with me at all times and when things were bad, it calmed me, having a small piece of you with me.

Four years ago, I was in the lowest place I've ever known, suffering from PTSD and in an unhappy marriage. I can honestly say that you saved my life, never mind changed my life for the better. I am a better person, a better father, a better soldier because of you, because of your love and support. I am looking forward to being a better husband."

He takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself. He knows he's close to losing control of his emotions and can feel tears forming in the corner of his eyes. She senses this and takes his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Molly, I love you so much that it sometimes frightens me, but now I've found you, I don't ever intend to lose you, let you out of my sight for too long, ever again. I want you to be the last thing I see.

Molly, you are the love of my life and I am the happiest man alive that you've chosen to share your life with me."

As he kisses her again, the applause is thunderous. As they pull apart, he's conscious that there are quite a few people dabbing their eyes.

She'd not intended to make a speech, but given her dad had specifically asked not to have to do it, she'd given it some thought in the last few weeks. She'd not spoken to him about it, because they'd agreed that things would be kept informal, so had decided to wait and see how she felt on the day.

As she listens to her husband bare his soul to their friends and family, she knows exactly what she wants to say.

"I know it is not exactly traditional for the bride to speak but there are a couple of things that I wanna say.

Elvis said we met 14 years ago, but I actually first laid eyes on Charles four years before that. He didn't know I existed and I'm pretty sure he thought I was called Polly until we finally spoke on the night of our graduation. I'd never thought that someone like him would ever be interested in a girl like me, but it turns out he couldn't resist my charm and magnetism and we became best friends.

Many of you only know the successful me, but there were a few years, after University, when things weren't that great in my life. During that time, there was one person who was always there for me, who always believed in me and who kept me goin'. I know you think I saved your life Charles, but really you saved mine long before.

Charles, I have already loved you for over half my life and truth be told, I fancy you more today than ever before. I can honestly say that I am the happiest women alive that you've chosen to share your life with me."

Once again, the applause is deafening and there are even fewer dry eyes than before.

When things quieten down she has one more toast to give, "Oh, and one final thing. There is actually one person in this room who literally saved Charles' life when he was foolish enough to get himself shot in Afghanistan and another person who was instrumental in gettin' us together afterwards. Please can you raise a toast to our wonderful friends, Georgie and Elvis.

Now, please drink, eat, dance and enjoy yourselves. The formalities are most definitely over!"

After the emotion of their respective speeches, everyone seems to be giving them a bit of time together alone.

He takes her loosely in his arms, "So Dawesy….. the 'Rules of Engagement'?"

She throws her head back laughing, "Despite what I just said, I'm going to bleedin' kill Georgie. Guess that will teach me to go out drinkin' with someone who is six months pregnant."

"I have to admit to being a tad intrigued."

"I bet you are."

"So…."

She smiles at him, an idea forming, "So, you might gonna have to wait out a little bit longer and I'll tell you later…. when we're alone."

-x-

 **This update is getting quite long so I've decided to split it…. the wedding day will continue in the next chapter.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Those of you who have read my other stories will know that I don't really do smut but it is their wedding night after all and it may get a bit racier than normal. Hope it's not too embarrassing to read ;-o.**

 **Happy Valentine's Day!**

 **As ever, please R &R.**

 **Saturday 15 July 2013 – PART II**

 _Lake Garda, Italy_

They've enjoyed a magnificent, leisurely Italian wedding meal, where the courses and booze just kept coming. Some members of the Dawes clan are definitely worse for wear, but the mood is relaxed and fun-filled.

As darkness comes, the gardens are lit up with thousands of sparkling lights and the place looks magical. The band is playing requests and the open-air dance floor is full of their family, friends and their children. Sam has found playmates in Molly's numerous nieces and nephews, and loaded with gelato is showing no signs of going to bed despite the lateness of the hour.

They've been inseparable all day, both wanting to enjoy every moment of the day together. During the drinks reception and the meal, they've made sure they've properly spoken to all their guests and now they're enjoying some silly dancing with the children, surrounded by their friends and family.

Despite the sun having long since set, it is a warm evening and it is a brutal work-out keeping up with the kids on the dance floor. Eventually, she admits defeat, "I think I might gonna need to get a glass of water and cool down for a while."

He accompanies her to the bar where they're joined by Georgie and Elvis.

She smiles at her friend, "How you doin' Georgie? Copin' ok with the heat and that?"

Georgie blows out a long breath, puts her hands on her hips and stretches out her back in the way that pregnant women often do, "I've had just the best time Molly, but I'm starting to flag a bit. I feel enormous, can't believe I've still got three more months to go of this."

Before she's even thought about what she's saying, she's said it, "You look amazin', I hope I look that good when I'm six months pregnant."

She's aware of a slight change in the atmosphere and some meaningful exchanged glances between Elvis and Charles.

Elvis takes it upon himself to redirect the conversation, "So, I've decided to take a SF training role. I figure I'm getting too old for all that shit and used up too many of my nine lives on missions over the years. Feels like the right time to take less risks and be closer to home. There's this new thing coming into force, shared parental leave. Georgie is going to do the first six months with the baby and then I'm gonna do the second six months."

She chuckles, "Elvis Harte, you are the epitome of the modern man."

Elvis puts a protective arm around his wife, and rests the other hand on her bump, "I'd do anything for these two."

He's been silently observing the conversation, but joins in, "And what about you Georgie? Do you think you'll stay in once you've had the baby?"

She shrugs and unsuccessfully attempts to stifle a big yawn, "I don't know Charlie. I'd like to, but I guess we'll have to see how practical it is longer term. I don't think there will be any more rushing off to war-zones or humanitarian missions for me though."

"Right, I think I need to get my lovely wife and our unborn child off to bed, so if you'll excuse us, we'll say goodnight."

There is much hugging and kissing between the four friends before Elvis and Georgie leave them on their own again.

There's a strange and slightly uneasy silence between them for a few minutes, before he speaks, appearing to carefully choose his words, "You know, we've never actually talked about having children….."

She won't look at him, suddenly finding the ground very interesting, "It's ok, I shouldn't have said that. Ignore me. Let's not have this conversation now."

He lifts her chin and she can feel his eyes searching her face, trying to understand her, but she still won't look at him focussing on some point beyond his shoulder, "Molly, I didn't realise….."

She's barely whispering, knowing that her voice sounds small and choked, "It's ok. I know you've got Sam. You know I love him like my own."

He's pleading with her now, "Molly. Please look at me."

She drags her eyes towards him, feeling hot tears coming before he finally speaks, "Nothing would make me happier than having children with you."

Her eyes dart towards his, a small tentative smile forming on her lips, "Really?"

He's smiling and kissing away her tears, "Yes, really. I just assumed that because you've never mentioned it that children didn't feature in your life plan."

She's overcome with happiness, and the tears start all over, "Oh Charles."

This time, he gently wipes them away with his thumbs before slyly looking at her, "So….. do you want to start trying?"

She stutters, "What like now?"

He smiling again, "Well, neither of us is getting any younger…."

She's aware that the vibe on the dance floor has calmed down since they've been talking and the band has started to play some slow tunes. Couples young and old are dancing together.

"I'd like that very much…. But first, do you think we could maybe go and dance for a while?"

"Yes, of-course. Lead the way Mrs James. I am all yours."

-x-

They manage a few dances but it is becoming increasingly obvious to each of them that their minds are not on dancing. Their kisses are becoming longer and harder and she's feeling an urgent need to be alone with him. Without speaking he leads her from the dance floor and with a few very quick goodbyes to their parents, they're into a waiting taxi and on their way to the boutique hotel he's booked for their first night.

Thankfully, it's only a short journey because she doesn't think she's able to restrain herself much longer from unzipping his trousers, sitting on his lap and shagging him in the back of the taxi, especially after he's had his hand up her dress making the most of her commando status.

She can barely walk when they arrive at the hotel, something he senses, because he picks her up and chivalrously carries her to their suite.

Despite his best efforts along the way, she's managed to regain a modicum of composure and by the time he puts her down, she's remembered her earlier idea.

She reaches forward and takes a hold of his jacket lapels, pulling him towards her, "So, you wanted to know about the 'Rules of Engagement'?"

His eyes are dark with pure lust as he puts his arms around her and pulls her closer still, so their bodies are touching in multiple places. He nods at her and murmurs in agreement as he starts kissing her neck.

"Well they were created to enable me to get through our holiday without revealin' my true feelings for you as I was too shit-scared about ruinin' our friendship... You probably won't remember but we were lyin' by the pool and I asked you to put some sun-cream on my back…."

He turns her around, so that he is stood behind her. He pushes away her hair, "And I pushed away your hair." He starts rubbing her shoulders and back adding kisses, "And I rubbed the sun-cream into your shoulders and back."

She turns around to face him, "I was seconds from turnin' around and kissin' you, but then you jumped into the bleedin' swimmin' pool."

"I was totally aroused and jumped into 'the bleedin' swimmin' pool' before you turned around and saw the effect you were having on me."

She pulls away from him, knowing that this will be excruciatingly frustrating for him, "So, I came up with the 'Rules of Engagement'."

She moves closer so that she can whisper in his ear, "So, rule one was absolutely no inappropriate physical contact. Definitely, no further sun cream rubbing and extra special care to be taken when drunk. No pissed cuddling or hugs."

She puts her hands around the back of his neck and pulls him down towards her and plants an aggressive kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and tugging at his bottom lip. As he's hungrily responding she pulls away, "Definitely no kissing. That would be a massive contravention of rule one."

She slips her hands inside his jacket and up onto his shoulders to slide it down his arms. She glides her hands across his chest, noting how fast his heart is beating, and starts slowly undoing his shirt buttons to reveal his muscular chest, "Rule two was no more sneaky perving at you whilst you were swimming, showering or getting changed."

She pulls his shirt from his shoulders and places light, feathery kisses across his chest before working her fingers along the waistband of his trousers, settling on the belt buckle and deftly undoing it. She can feel just how much he wants her as she undoes the zipper and pushes his trousers down.

He steps out of his trousers as she traces the line of his briefs, before easing her hand in and stroking his length, "Rule three was no more flirting."

He lets out an immense groan unable to control himself any longer. In one fast movement, he's removed her hand, pulled her dress over her head, released her bra, picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He's discarded his briefs and somehow managed to shed his socks.

She's lying on her back and he's hovering over her, stroking her face "I love you so much, Molly James."

"Ditto. Charles James."

He closes the small distance between their bodies and enters her, determined to show her just what he thinks of the 'Rules of Engagement'.


	17. Chapter 17

**Sunday 15 July 2014**

 _Tilford, Surrey_

She wakes up realising that the space beside her is cold and empty. She lies there for a moment listening for any sign of life in the house, but it is completely quiet. Checking the time, she's a little shocked to see that it is gone 10am and that she has well and truly slept in, which she thinks, on reflection, is actually not entirely surprising after the night's bedroom activities. There's a now cold cup of tea on the bedside table, together with a small vase of freshly cut flowers she recognises as having come from the garden, a card and a scribbled note both in his beautiful handwriting.

She reads the note first and smirks.

 _Didn't want to wake you from your snoring, I mean, sleeping. Back around midday. C x_

She opens the card, which is of course an anniversary card.

 _Dearest Molly_

 _Marriage, 1 - Rules of Engagement, 0_

 _One year ago today you made me the happiest man alive, and you also married me_

 _I adore you more every day (and night) and will love you for always_

 _Charles x_

 _PS. Present to follow later on today_

 _PPS. Did I mention I love you?_

As drags herself out of bed, towards the bathroom with the intention of making herself look slightly more presentable for the day ahead, she feels that tell-tale ache in her abdomen and her good mood evaporating.

-x-

She slams her fist into the dough and knocks it back repeatedly, trying to expunge the frustration and sadness she's feeling.

She hears the front door close and mentally counts down the seconds until he enters the kitchen and she has to face him. She wipes her tears away, pastes a smile onto her face and lets out a slow breath.

"Hi, we're home."

Home is the cottage they had initially rented and then bought when the owners did indeed decide to sell last Autumn. As promised, Rebecca has increased his access rights to Sam, so that as well as having him every other weekend, they also have him on the alternate Sunday's too. As a result, Sam's joined the local kids cricket club and he's been helping with the coaching. It's proving to be a brilliant bonding activity for them and a great way to meet some other local families in the absence of the school run.

She hears him tell Sam he can go and play for a while.

"In the kitchen."

He comes up behind her and gives her a quick but loving hug and kiss on her cheek which, in her current mood, makes her heart swell and break a little at the same time. She keeps her eyes forward on her task.

She can sense him moving around the kitchen, putting a few things away and generally pottering.

"I'm making a coffee, do you want a tea?"

"No thanks."

"It's a beautiful day out there, I was thinking maybe we could go for a bike ride this evening, after we've dropped Sam off."

"Ok."

"He's getting pretty good at hitting the ball, I reckon he's a chip off the old block when it comes to sport."

"That's good."

She feels him behind her, not touching her but standing really close, before he even speaks, "Molly, what's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"I know that's not true. I'm not sure how much more kneading that dough can take, you've said less than ten words since we got back and you've just passed up an opportunity to tease me after I inadvertently called myself old."

He gently turns her around to face him, "and you've been crying."

He pulls her closer, stroking her hair, which rather than soothe her just brings her tears back again. She buries her head into his chest and sobs.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm barren. I'm too old and I'm never gonna be able to give you a child."

He pulls back to look at her, "Excuse me."

"I'm not pregnant... again."

He can't help feeling a pang of disappointment at this news but knows he needs to tread carefully, "Oh Molly. It will happen."

She can't hide the despair in her voice, "It's been a year and nothin'."

He tries to contain the guilt he still feels about going away so soon after they were married, but it is apparent in his quiet voice and choice of words, "Of which I was away for six months."

"But even so, it's not like we haven't been tryin' the rest of the time."

He's not sure whether she's ready for humour, but is willing to risk it to take away her tears, "I know, but you know what this means... we need to keep trying..."

It seems to work and she gives him a wry smile, "Well, I'm not complainin' about the tryin'."

He smiles encouragingly at her, "That's better. There's no plans for either of us to do any travelling in the next few months."

"Do you think we should get some tests done? You know, see if there is anythin' wrong."

He has considered this, but also doesn't want her to go through the stress and worry of tests unnecessarily, "We can do if it would make you happier, but I'm not sure it is necessary."

He realises almost immediately by the stiffening of her body and change in her expression that he has said the wrong thing.

Her words come out harsher than she intends, "What you're sayin' is that YOU don't need any tests because the evidence that YOU can reproduce is playin' next door."

Although he's hurt by her lashing out at him, he knows it is just because she's upset, "No... that's not fair. I just think we need to give it a bit more time….. Elvis and Georgie were trying for quite a while before Laura came along."

She's getting angrier, "So, you do think there is somethin' wrong? You've talked to Elvis about this?"

He keeps calm, counting to five before answering truthfully, "No, I don't necessarily think there is anything wrong. But yes, I have talked to Elvis. We talk about lots of things. You know that."

She's annoyed with herself for picking a fight with him and makes a frustrated groan, "I'm sorry, I know I'm bein' a bitch and this isn't your fault. I just really hoped this month would be different."

He pulls her close, kissing her tenderly on the lips, showing her there are no hard feelings, "I know. Me too. I don't want to fight with you over this."

She returns his kiss, "Me neither."

-x-

They're a few minutes away from Rebecca's house and she can tell that he's getting tense by the way he's repeatedly tapping the steering wheel. She reaches over and gently squeezes his thigh, "You alright?"

He nods and gives her a brave smile, but she's not convinced.

It had been a massive shock for him to find out that the new man in Rebecca's life was someone he knew, someone he had history with, someone he really didn't like and who felt the same about him.

Since Rebecca had married him at Christmas, after what seemed like a whirlwind romance, he was finding it very hard to accept that this man was now in Sam's life more than he was. The fact that they were now also expecting a child together wasn't helping either.

She looks around to check that Sam isn't ear wigging their conversation, but can tell from his glazed expression that he is absorbed in the DVD he's watching.

"He might not be there."

"Oh, he will be. You know he can't resist winding me up."

"Don't let him get to you."

"I know, I know. But of all the people she could have chosen, why did she have to marry bloody Bones?"

"Well, they're perfectly matched."

He snorts, "I make you right there…. but what about Sam?"

"He's fine Charles. He has two parents and two-step parents who all love him. He's a happy kid. It will be good for him to have a siblin'…. At least they're able to provide him with one."

He takes her hand from his leg and gives it a squeeze and a kiss, "As will we Molly."

-x-

He knocks on the door and waits for the confrontation, wondering what form it will take today.

Bones answers the door, completely ignoring him, "Alright Sammie, come in and wash your hands. Tea's almost ready."

He gives Sam a big hug, "See you next weekend Scamp."

He nods at Bones as he hands over Sam's rucksack, "Bones."

"Can you make sure you get him back at 4pm as agreed next time, so that we can make sure he's in bed in good time and all ready for school."

"For Christ's sake, it's only 4.10 and Molly texted to say the traffic was heavy."

"4pm James…. I'm sure even you can manage that."

Thankfully Bones closes the door before he has a chance to say something he might regret and retaliate, which he knows is the wrong thing to do on so many levels anyway.

Bones' career in the Army has been hugely successful. He's got a reputation for being a tough but highly effective operator and although they hold the same rank, Bones was promoted to Major a couple of years before he was and is on track to become one of the youngest Lieutenant Colonels.

He walks back to car, resolving not to let Bones ruin the rest of their day.

She looks at him expectantly as he gets in, "Alright?"

He smiles confidently at her as he starts the engine, "Sure. He made some dick-comment about getting Sam back on time, but really it's fine. Let's get back to the cottage. Do you fancy that bike ride?"

"That sounds great. Maybe we could grab some food and a drink at the pub?"

"Now you're talking Mrs James."

-x-

She smiles as she freewheels down the hill, racing through the warm summer evening air. She's really got into cycling since moving to the cottage. She'd not been entirely convinced when he'd first suggested that they get a couple of bikes to use to explore the area, but now it's something she does most days and one of their favourite activities. She enjoys the exercise, but also finds she does some of her best story planning and thinking whilst cycling.

It's not the only new activity she's taken up since leaving London and embracing the countryside life. She's discovered a love of bread-making too. There is something incredibly satisfying about the process of creating a home-made loaf and she has found that it is the perfect way to wind-down and take a break from the intensity of writing.

When she'd initially rented the cottage, she'd thought that she wouldn't want to be there by herself when his inevitable next deployment call came and she'd planned to move back to her London apartment. However, by the time it happened she'd already found that the peace and quiet of the cottage and country life was the perfect place for her to write and she'd stayed put.

They'd only been married for three months when he was asked to go back out to Afghanistan to work on the team preparing for the withdrawal of British combat troops. His superiors were keen to have the benefit of his experience of multiple tours and he knew it was a great opportunity, which would stand him in good stead for the future.

She used the time to do something that had been playing on her mind, something she'd been thinking about for a while. She wrote her first adult fiction novel. She'd not turned her back on the Julie Criscoll series and had contracted to write books four and five, but also wanted to expand into some more serious literature. Her publishers were ecstatic with the first draft and were pushing her to have it finished for a pre-Christmas launch.

Although she missed him dreadfully and worried about him more than she let on, she also found she was able to channel her energy into writing without compromising or distraction. One thing she knew from their time together was that she'd have struggled to get so much written if he'd been around, she would have too happily allowed herself to be distracted by him time and time again.

Amazingly, he'd been able to negotiate two weeks R&R in the UK over Christmas and New Year, during which time they had hosted his parents for a few days, visited new parents Georgie and Elvis and had the joy of an extended period with Sam, whilst Rebecca and Bones went on their honeymoon. It was a proper family Christmas, during which they created some new traditions and spent lots of quality time together.

-x-

She arrives at the pub first and is off her bike and waiting for him by the time he pulls up. He gets off his bike and stretches, taking in a deep breath, "Bloody hell, Dawesy. You set quite a pace these days."

She playfully smacks his bottom, "It's not my fault that you've become a lazy arse, _Major_ James. Although it is still a rather nice arse."

He grabs her and pulls her into a kiss, "Perving over my arse again?"

She giggles, "Always."

"Well, I suppose you did have a lie-in this morning as well, whereas I was up with the larks."

"True. But, for the record, I do not snore."

"You do."

"I do not."

He silences the disagreement with another kiss before releasing her, taking her hand and leading the way into the bar. Both their moods are considerably better than earlier, after the positive effects of some fresh air and physical exercise.

An hour or so later, they've had some food and a couple of drinks and are sat in the garden holding hands, looking very much like the couple in love that they are.

"So, our one year wedding anniversary."

"Not forgettin' the fifteen years since we met."

"You know we haven't actually been away on holiday since our honeymoon."

They'd flown to Palermo, hired a sports car and spent two weeks exploring Sicily staying in small luxury hotels around the island. It had been wonderful and incredibly romantic from start to finish.

She smiles reminiscing, "I know. Not sure we'll ever be able to top that as a holiday. I think I'm a little bit in love with Italy."

He's smiling, a little bit too smugly she thinks, truth be told as he hands her an envelope, "I was thinking perhaps we should do something about that. Happy anniversary Molly."

She opens up the envelope, incredulously reading the homemade gift certificate. "Cycling in Tuscany?!. Are you shittin' me?"

His smile disappears and he's beginning to doubt that he's got this right. He'd thought she would love this self-guided trip, where your luggage is transported hotel to hotel, given her new found love of cycling.

He's uncertainly explaining the details, "It's not until September, when the schools have gone back and it will less busy and a bit cooler…. Also gives me a bit of time to sort out my 'lazy arse' … so I'll stand a chance of keeping up with you."

She's not giving anything away with her expression and he's anxiously waiting for her to say something else, "Well, what do you think?"

She gives him a huge smile and is giggling, "I think I love it!. Thank you! I'm sorry, your face. You looked so pleased with yourself. I couldn't resist."

She recognises the dark, lustful look in his eyes and doesn't doubt him when he growls, "You are in so much trouble when I get you home."

-x-


	18. Chapter 18

**Monday 15 July 2015 – PART I**

 _Tilford, Surrey_

She stares disbelievingly at the little indicator window on the pregnancy test. Pregnant. She puts this test down with the other two identical tests, with their identical results.

She's suspected, but not wanted to hope, that she might be pregnant. She'd been feeling a bit off colour and then her period had been late. She'd not done anything for the first few days, as her cycle has been fairly erratic. Then, she'd not done anything for a few more days because she didn't want to tempt fate, having been in this position too many times before which had always ended with disappointment. Now she is nearly two weeks past her longest recent cycle, she has finally had caved in and done a test, well three tests actually.

After having had a barrage of tests done earlier this year which confirmed that there was nothing wrong with either of their reproductive capabilities, she's been attempting to chill out about the whole getting pregnant thing. She'd realised that the stress of constantly worrying was too much for her and the excessive trying was taking away some of the magic of their love-making. The last thing she wanted to do was to reduce sex with him to a procedure, but that was how it had started to feel for them both. Since she has relaxed, things have improved and heated up considerably.

Thinking back, she wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't a particularly memorable night, a few weeks ago, that resulted in her being pregnant.

Her first adult fiction novel had been published at the end of last year to huge critical and commercial acclaim. She's found herself very much in demand once again, and has been fairly busy with promotion during the first half of the year. She's had a few short trips abroad, but for her the highlight was being invited to discuss her work at the Hay Literary Festival at the end of May. Despite all her success, she had been completely bricking herself about being in the company of so many famous and established authors and in the run-up to the festival found herself suffering from a serious attack of imposter syndrome. She'd really hoped he might be able to accompany her for some moral support, but she knew that he was going to be in the middle of a two-week long-planned exercise somewhere in Herefordshire. Typically, she had not made a big fuss and had just resolved to get on with things.

She'd spent a couple of days at the Festival, which had settled her nerves in some respects in that she knew what to expect, but terrified her even more in others because everyone was so incredibly talented, clever and interesting and she felt distinctly ordinary in comparison.

She'd been nervously waiting to go on-stage for her big moment when he'd called her.

Her immediate thought had been that something might be wrong, "Hi, is everythin' ok?"

His voice had sounded warm and encouraging, "Yes, all good. I was just calling to wish you good luck."

She'd relaxed a little, "Thank you."

"I'm really sorry, I'm not there with you."

"I know you are. It can't be helped, but you'd shittin' love it here. I'd better go as I'm on in a few minutes."

"Call me later and tell me all about it."

"Will do."

"You'll be brilliant. I love you."

"Ditto."

She'd felt calmer after the call, as she always did when she heard his voice.

A few minutes later she'd made her way onto the stage and was immediately taken aback by the volume of the applause and the size of the crowd, it was definitely a case of standing room only.

She was being interviewed by festival President Stephen Fry, whom she'd briefly met the previous day when he had been incredibly kind about her work. As she'd reached him, he'd greeted her like an old friend, given her a big hug and whispered to her to enjoy the experience. She'd always thought Charles was tall, but this man was a bleeding giant in comparison.

As she'd taken her seat, she'd allowed herself to take a look at the crowd and that's when she had seen him. Sat in the front row, dressed in his combat fatigues, clapping enthusiastically with the biggest grin on his face.

She'd responded with a huge grin and had instantly relaxed. The interview had passed in a bit of a blur but she knew she'd nailed it due to the frequent pauses in the questioning as Stephen waited for the audience's laughter to die down. An hour later she was leaving the stage to more rapturous applause and straight into his arms.

"What are you doin' here? Shit, you haven't gone AWOL have you?"

"No, I have not gone AWOL. Pulled some strings and snuck away. You were fucking awesome."

"Thank you. How long have I got you here for?"

"The night, I need to get back early tomorrow."

"I'm not gonna lie. I've missed you. Can I entice you back to my hotel room?"

"Does it have a bath?"

"Yes, and a shower."

"Fluffy dressing gowns?"

"Yes."

"Room service?"

"Yes."

"Mini-bar?"

"Yes."

"I think I could be persuaded."

"Only if you're sure…."

"Hang on, one more question."

"Yes."

"How big is the bed?"

She'd been buzzing after the thrill of the interview and he'd been totally in awe of just how brilliant she had been. It had been a heady combination and added with the surprise nature of his visit, their good moods collided into an incredibly fun, loving and powerful night during which neither of them got much sleep. They made excellent use of the bath, shower and bed, literally unable to get enough of each other.

-x-

She walks back into their bedroom and looks at the bedside alarm. It is still early, but she knows he will be waking soon. She gets back into bed and lies facing him, resting on her arm, just watching him sleep, enjoying knowing that in a few moments she is going to change his life, their lives, again.

The alarm goes off and he sleepily reaches to turn it off. As he's doing so, he realises that she is already awake which is not a particularly common occurrence. There is something odd about the way she is lying there, staring at him with a slight smile on her face.

He gives her a quick kiss, "Morning, Mrs James. You look very pleased with yourself."

She returns the kiss with a breezy, "Really?"

He's aware of the need to relieve himself, "Don't go anywhere, I'll be back in a moment."

As he hauls his glorious naked self out of bed and saunters towards the bathroom, she's can't resist a bit of perving over his arse as she starts counting the seconds. She's bet herself that she won't make it to 10 before he finds the line of tests she's left on the toilet seat.

Even so, she's taken by surprise when less than 5 seconds later he's striding back across the bedroom and gathering her in his arms, smothering her with happy kisses.

She giggles, "Easy soldier. I'm guessing you've found your anniversary present."

"Oh Molly, I can't quite believe it."

"Me neither, but I think we might have to. Don't think three tests would lie."

He's holding her face, "How are you feeling? Do you feel alright?"

"Yes, a bit weird, but mostly fine."

"I am so fucking happy right now."

She smiles at him coyly, "Well, why don't you actually go to the toilet this time, and then come back here and show me just how happy you are."

"Yes, maam."

-x-

He's eventually torn himself away, reluctantly heading to the base for the Monday morning regimental meeting. He's got the car stereo turned up loud and is singing along in perfect pitch and tune to his favourite Bruce Springstein album.

-x-

She's finally got up, having dozed for a while after he went. She's got the radio on, singing along rather tunelessly to Capital, her favourite music station.

-x-

He's in the meeting, only half listening to the regimental plans for the week, far too caught up in his own happy bubble. He's thinking that he will get away early this evening, but will need to stop at the supermarket to buy some additional ingredients as the anniversary meal he had originally planned is not pregnancy friendly.

-x-

She's been sat at her desk for the last hour trying to write and failing miserably, far too excited to concentrate on book four of the Julie Criscoll series.

Her phone rings. She smiles when she sees the caller ID.

"Hi. Missed me?"

"Just thought I'd check in, see how you're doing."

"I'm fine. But since when have you just called to _check-in_ , to _see how I'm doin'_?"

"Well, since my beautiful and amazing wife told me she was expecting my child."

"This is going to be a bleedin' long pregnancy with you checkin' up on me every five minutes."

"Right."

"I'm teasin' you. It's lovely, but don't you have work to do?"

"My mind's not really on the job today."

"Mine neither."

"I thought I'd cook a special anniversary dinner for us tonight…. pregnancy friendly."

"What do you mean…. pregnancy friendly?"

"Well, there's loads of things you can't eat now."

"What? Like what?"

"Dawesy, do you actually know anything about pregnancy?"

"Well of course I know about gettin' pregnant, but to be honest I didn't really want to find out much about bein' pregnant until I actually was…. You know, not tempt fate and all that."

"Right. Well there are certain foods you shouldn't eat. Soft unpasteurised cheeses, pates, rare steak, raw fish & shellfish."

"You're bleedin' kiddin' me right? Those are like my favourite foods."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"There goes my lunch plans then."

-x-

His day is dragging on. It's after lunch and he's tempted to call her again, but gets called into a meeting instead.

-x-

She's had a light lunch of non-contraband food and has abandoned all hope of getting any work done today. She decides to go for a ride as it has been a while since she got out on her bike.

-x-

It's four o'clock and his meeting has finally finished. He's back in his office and has a strong urge to call her again. He dials her number, braces himself for her piss-taking, but is surprised and disappointed when it rings out and goes to voicemail instead.

-x-

It's four o'clock and she's cycling along a country lane. She feels the familiar vibration of her phone ringing in her pocket but before she has a chance to stop and take the call, she is conscious of the feeling of a great physical impact as time seems to slow down. Her last memory is flying through the air and landing in an awkward position. As she loses consciousness the world looks upside down.


	19. Chapter 19

**Monday 15 July 2015 – PART II**

 _Tilford, Surrey_

He's in the car, driving home. He's made a quick stop at the shops and has all the ingredients he needs for dinner. He's redials her number, still no answer. He's been trying to get through to her for the last 30 minutes and is starting to get a tad impatient.

He arrives at the cottage. Her car is parked on the lane. He goes into the house and is met by silence and it is apparent that she's not here. He checks the time, 17:00, tries calling her again and there is still no answer. There's evidence that she's had lunch, but the kettle is cold suggesting that she's been out for some time. He goes out to the garden and looks in the shed. Her bike and helmet are gone. Of course, she's out on her bike.

He heads back into the kitchen, makes himself a coffee and busies himself with tidying up and preparing a few ingredients for dinner, checking the clock every few minutes.

17:30 and she's still not answering her phone. She should be back by now. He has an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he tells himself that he is being ridiculous and that she'll be home any minute.

17:45 and he can't ignore his growing anxiety any more. He grabs his car keys and before he changes his mind, he's back in the car, driving along her normal bike ride route, keenly keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of her or her bike.

He's at the farthest point in the circuit when he sees the police car and ambulance. He stops the car, fear and panic rising rapidly. He draws on all his military training to collect himself as he steps out of the car and approaches the scene.

A policewoman stops him, "Can I help you sir?"

He summons all his authority, "Major Charles James. Can you tell me what's happened?"

The policewoman hesitates clearly unsure of his jurisdiction, but gives him basic information, "RTA. Suspected hit and run. Cyclist."

He's struggling to keep his voice steady, "Male or female?"

He's already pushing past the policewoman before she has finished the words, "Female….. I'm sorry sir, but you can't go over there."

He's too quick and within a few seconds he's at the paramedics who are loading the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. There's a policeman standing close, checking a phone.

He can see that it is her. She's unconscious, in a brace and there is a lot of blood visible. All his professional veneer has disappeared, "Fuck. No. Fuck."

The policeman intercepts him, "Excuse me, Sir. Do you know this woman?"

His voice is uncharacteristically weak, "Yes, she's my wife."

"Ok. Can you tell me her name?"

"Molly. Sorry, Molly James. 38 years old. She's pregnant."

The policeman checks something on the phone he's holding. "Ok. You must be Charles James, you're listed as her ICE and it looks like you've been trying to get hold of her. When did you last speak to her?"

"Before lunch."

"Ok. We're not sure how long she has been here. We received an anonymous call, we suspect from the hit and run driver, an hour ago. It's taken us a while to find her."

The paramedics are closing up the back of the ambulance and getting ready to leave, "We're taking her to the Royal Surrey."

"Is she going to be alright?"

"We'll know more when we get her to hospital."

He watches in a stunned, shocked silence as the ambulance drives off, unable to comprehend how everything has gone from perfect to shit in the space of a few hours.

He's interrupted from his thoughts by the policeman, "Sir, are you ok to drive your car or would you like us to give you a lift? We just need to wait for another car to arrive as this is now a crime scene."

He's not entirely sure that he is in a fit state to drive, but he has no intention of waiting out for another police car to arrive either, "Erm, I should be ok, thank you."

-x-

He arrives at the hospital, where thankfully the A&E department does not seem too busy. He's gives his details to the receptionist and is nervously pacing backwards and forwards when he hears his name being called.

The doctor introduces himself, which he instantly forgets, and indicates that he should follow. He is shown to a small waiting room and offered a seat which he declines. He recognises this routine, he's seen this before and he's feeling sick at the prospect of what he's about to be told.

He folds his hands under his armpits, trying to control his emotions. He can't wait any longer, "Doctor. What's happening?"

"Major James. Your wife was brought in suffering from concussion, a number of suspected fractures including her left leg, left arm and collarbone and superficial injuries to her face, but what is concerning us more is that there is internal bleeding, which we suspect is a ruptured spleen. She's just gone into theatre."

As the doctor is speaking his control slips and he's running his hands through his hair, holding onto his head and suddenly aware of his breathing, "Christ. Is she going to be ok?"

"She's in a critical condition. We'll know more once she comes out of surgery."

He doesn't want to ask, fearful of the answer, but has to know, "And the baby? She's pregnant. Only a few weeks, we haven't had a scan or anything yet. We only found out this morning."

"I'd say about 6 weeks. The surgery should not impact the pregnancy."

He lets out a deep breath, "Oh, thank god."

"I have to go now, but you can stay here and someone will come and speak to you once she's out of theatre. It's likely to be a few hours."

"Thank you."

-x-

He's left alone and for some time he just sits with his head in his hands, in a shocked silent trance, willing her to be ok.

After a while he feels anger taking over as he contemplates what kind of sick person would run after an accident like that. He starts to wonder how long she had been lying there before the police found her and daren't think for too long about what would have happened if they hadn't. He wonders if she was conscious at all, whether she was scared and in pain, and whether she will even remember the accident.

He can feel himself slipping into an unhelpful and dangerous despair and decides he needs to change his scenery, get out of this awful room and try to pull himself together. He draws on the techniques he learnt to deal with his PTSD and knows this is not the time for him to regress to his behaviour of those dark days.

He heads outside and realises it is late and already getting dark. He's not had anything to eat since lunchtime and is feeling quite weak with hunger. He wanders around until he finds an open shop and buys snacks. He also buys the biggest bar of Dairy Milk they sell, knowing it is her favourite.

Feeling calmer and more in control, he heads back to the waiting room but there is still no update. He pushes away the anxiety and tells himself that she is in safe hands and that she will be ok, that they will be ok.

He contemplates calling her parents, but decides against it until he has more information. Although her relationship with them has much improved over the years, she's not close to her parents in the way she is with his. He also suspects that she wouldn't welcome a panicking, fussing Belinda around her until she's feeling a bit stronger.

He calls his parents and Elvis, who whilst being distressed with his news, take it calmly and offer to come immediately. He puts them both off, knowing they will respect his wishes, but promises to update them as soon as he has more information.

He's just finishing the call to Elvis when there is a knock on the door. He takes a deep breath, steadies himself as a different doctor enters the room. He introduces himself and explains that the surgery was successful, that they were able to repair the damage to the spleen and that all being well she should make a full recovery. He lets out a long breath, thanks the doctor and follows him from the room towards the ICU.

Despite understanding the extent of her injuries, he is still taken aback by the sight of her. Although she has been cleaned up, her face is swollen and bruised and her arms are covered in scrapes and grazes.

He draws over the chair, sits down facing the bed and tentatively picks up her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers and gently stroking her knuckles. He rests his elbows on the bed, bringing her hand to his lips, closes his eyes and silently gives thanks that she is going to be ok.

It is some time later and he has dozed off, still holding her hand, leaning his head on the side of the bed.

"Sorry."

He opens his eyes at the sound of her raspy voice.

He strokes her hair, not wanting to touch her bruised face, "Hey, don't be sorry. You were in an accident. It wasn't your fault."

He sees tears forming in her eyes, she turns away from him and she starts sobbing, "How can you forgive me? After what I've done?"

He gingerly reaches across to hug her, conscious that she's got a broken collarbone, "Hey, calm down. You gave me a bit of a scare, but you're alive. You're going to be ok."

She's barely whispering as she says the words, "But the baby."

He realises too late the reason for her tears, kicking himself that he wasn't quicker to figure it out. He pulls back so that he can look at her in the face, "Oh Molly. The baby is fine. She's made of stronger stuff that that."

She looks at him quizzically, "She?"

He grins at her, "Well, obviously I don't know if it's a girl, but I reckon she's a fighter, like her mother."

"Or _he's_ a fighter, like his _soldier_ father."

"Well maybe, but anyway… the baby is fine. You on the other hand, Mrs James, are a bit of a mess."

She looks down her body and groans, "Everythin' bleedin' hurts."

He theatrically shows her the Dairy Milk, "Do you think a piece of this might help?"

-x-


	20. Chapter 20

**Tuesday 15 July 2016**

 _Tilford, Surrey_

She's lying on her side, in her usual way, forming a protective cocoon around their precious baby daughter, who's peacefully sleeping alongside her.

Since bursting into their lives, Lily Emma James has brought them more joy and happiness than they ever believed possible.

Operation Baby, as they jokingly referred to her pregnancy, birth and early days, has been a resounding success so far, despite the bumpy start.

Somehow, the news of her accident had quickly become public knowledge and there were also rumours about her being pregnant circulating in the tabloid press. Once again, for a brief period, they were slightly overwhelmed by interest in their private lives.

The hit and run driver had turned himself in the day after the story had hit the papers. Predictably, the middle-aged man, had admitted to having been drinking at lunchtime and being well over the limit at the time of the accident. He'd subsequently been banned from driving for three years, but narrowly avoided a prison sentence as he had fully cooperated with the police, had reported the accident and it had been his first offence.

She'd been discharged from hospital a week after the accident. Arriving home was a blessed relief, although also a little bit like walking into a florist due to the mountain of get well soon flowers, not to mention gifts and letters awaiting her from her fans, all forwarded on by her publisher.

He'd taken compassionate leave to look after her in the first couple of months, as the combination of her injuries meant that she wasn't particularly mobile. Initially, she'd not been too delighted to have to rely on him or indeed anyone for quite so much, but whilst he'd been attentive and caring, he'd also encouraged her to do things for herself and had given her the space she was used to, when he sensed she needed it.

He'd used the time-off to do some overdue jobs in the house and garden, and she had quite enjoyed just sitting somewhere pretending to work, but actually secretly admiring him as he worked.

Despite her injuries, she found her desire for him was greater than ever. She blamed her pregnancy hormones, but the simple truth was that each day they spent together she loved and fancied him more than the day before, secure and happy with the knowledge that he felt exactly the same way about her.

Unfortunately, the rest of her body wasn't quite in the same place as her heart and mind, and the frustration at waiting out was the only thing that really darkened her mood in those first few weeks. Most of the time, she just felt incredibly lucky to be alive and to be growing a new life inside herself.

When she finally felt ready to restart their bedroom activities, he had initially needed a bit of persuading as he was afraid of hurting her or setting back her recovery. Once again, they had to be inventive with positions and it was reminiscent of the gentle, intense love-making of the start of their sexual relationship.

By the time she was six months pregnant, she'd made a full recovery from all her injuries and was very much back to her independent and confident self in most ways.

He'd turned down any further overseas deployments during her convalescence, but in December, he'd been asked to step-in and lead a short humanitarian tour in Kenya which meant he would miss Christmas but should be home in plenty of time before her due date.

He'd been torn because he didn't want to leave her or risk missing the birth of another of his children, but it was also the longest period he'd been at home in years and truth be told he was missing it.

In the end, she'd insisted that he went, sensing that he needed to feel the thrill of being on tour again, to be the soldier he so loved being.

She'd also felt her creativity was becoming stifled after such an intense period of togetherness. Although she'd managed to do some writing during her recovery, she'd known she needed a period of solitude if she was to stand any chance of finishing book four of the Julie Criscoll series before the baby arrived.

Of-course, as soon as he'd left she'd missed him terribly, but had productively used the uninterrupted time to not just finish book four, but also make a start on the fifth book and finalise plans for the impending arrival.

After much consideration and research, she'd decided that she really wanted to try for a home birth. The more she'd found out, the more she knew that the home setting would be much better for her. She'd kept her thoughts to herself, as she had been unsure whether it would be possible given her recent surgery and didn't want to have the discussion with him until she knew it was a definite option. However, as the pregnancy progressed smoothly and without complication, she had brought up the idea at one of her antenatal appointments. The midwife had been supportive and had referred her to the home-birth team and the plan was in place.

Her decision had initially caused a few heated long-distance discussions between them, with him being ultra-cautious and protective. She'd eventually won him over by pointing out to him that pregnancy was not an illness and that between the two of them, they'd seen enough of hospitals to last a lifetime, which he couldn't really disagree with.

In the end, it was fortuitous that they'd had the home birth plan because when she had awoken, early in the morning of the 14th February, two weeks after he'd returned and two weeks before her due date, with what she was fairly sure was a contraction, things had progressed fairly quickly.

She'd crept out of bed and gone to the toilet. She'd run a bath and eased herself in, which is where he'd found her some time later, looking fairly wrinkly and quietly breathing through another strong contraction.

"Shit, Dawsey. Are you having contractions?"

Once the contraction had finished, she'd murmured, "Mmmm."

He'd felt his stress levels rising, "Shit. For how long?"

"Dunno, what time is it?"

He couldn't quite comprehend how she couldn't know how long she had been there, but he'd kept himself calm, "08:30"

"About three hours."

"Shit. How regular are they?"

She'd gone quiet, steadying herself as another contraction came, eventually replying, "Quite, gettin' more so."

"Shit. Was that another one?"

"Yes… Can you stop sayin' _shit_. It's unnervin' me."

"Shit. Sorry. I think we need to call the midwife."

"Nah, it's too early, first labour's take hours."

He'd sat on the side of the bath, pulling himself together, knowing that he had to take some control of the situation, before she'd started to have another contraction.

"Dawsey, you're having contractions every two to three minutes. I'm calling the midwife."

She'd gasped, "Ok. Good idea. I think my waters have just broken."

He'd not let on, but the midwife had been quite alarmed at the rate of her progress and had given him strict instructions to call straight back if things changed before she arrived. She'd promised she'd be with them in 30 minutes.

He'd busied himself, making sure the hot water was on, keeping the bath nice and warm whilst she'd continued to have strong, regular contractions. He'd been amazed at how calm and collected she was, in an almost trance-like state, laying there with her eyes closed, controlling herself with her breathing. He'd felt a little surplus to requirements as she was entirely self-contained.

The midwife had arrived as promised and after a quick examination had confirmed to them that she was almost fully dilated. She'd discreetly called for the second midwife to come straight-away and had swiftly prepared her kit for the birth, reassuring them both that everything was completely normal so far.

A short while later something had changed, the water no longer seemed to be calming her and in between contractions they'd slowly helped her out of the bath and into the bedroom. She'd become unable to answer questions with anything more than a grunt and didn't seem to be able to find a comfortable position. She'd eventually settled on kneeling with her head buried into the bed. He'd instinctively knelt alongside her and she'd gripped strongly onto his hand, as though her life depended upon it.

There'd been a moment when she had started to panic, suddenly doubting that she could cope. He'd looked anxiously at the midwife who had just nodded confidently at him, and had encouraged her to do small panting breaths. With the next contraction, their baby's head had been born, quickly followed by the body with the following contraction.

They'd not found out their baby's gender during the pregnancy, but as the midwife placed their baby onto her chest, she'd seen that he had been right all those months ago, they had a daughter.

By 11.00, the placenta had been delivered, Lily had had her first feed and all evidence of the birth had been tidied away. The midwives were satisfied that all was well with mother and baby, and feeling slightly shocked and overwhelmed by the speed of events, they found themselves alone, once more, but with a very welcome addition to their lives.

-x-

She'd adopted a fairly relaxed and natural approach to parenting, keeping things as simple as possible, subscribing to the view that Lily's needs for milk, sleep and comfort were fairly basic; and that as long as these needs were being met, then all would be right in their world. In turn, Lily had proven to be a content and happy baby.

She'd planned to take at least six months maternity leave from writing and publicity, but had found that once she'd got through the first few weeks of motherhood, she had more time on her hands than she had expected. By taking advantage of Lily's frequent naps, and much to her publisher's surprise, she had already managed to complete the first draft of book five.

Unsurprisingly, he was utterly besotted with his daughter, and took every cuddle and nappy change as an opportunity to bond with her. He was also, once again, completely in awe of his wife and just how easily she had taken motherhood in her stride.

Sam had accepted the arrival of his baby half-sister as well as could be expected for an eight year-old boy. In fairness, he'd already been through it at home with his half-brother so the novelty of having a baby around had well and truly worn off in his eyes. However, he still seemed to love spending time with them all and continued to be very much part of their family at weekends.

-x-

He's in his usual position, spooning her with a protective arm wrapped around her middle.

She turns over to face him, slipping her arms up and around his neck, placing some light kisses on his lips and along his jaw line, pressing her body against his. She can tell he's waking up as his body responds to her attentions. She shrieks with surprise as in one swift movement he spins her so that he is on top, pinning her gently to the bed.

"Morning Mrs James. What exactly are you up to?"

"Mornin' soldier. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to be quick as I'm not sure how long we've got until madam wakes up and I really need to feed her."

He looks appreciatively at her swollen breasts, placing light kisses down her neck, over her chest towards her nipples, "Hmmm. So I can see."

"Are you pervin' over my lactatin' breasts again Charles James?"

He's now placing delicate kisses on her breasts, "Yep. Most definitely."

He reaches to the bedside drawer for a condom but she pulls his arm back, "We don't need that."

He pauses, checking that he understands her meaning, "We do unless you want another little James running around in nine months or so."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Not for me, but are you sure you're ready to start trying again?"

"Well as you so charmingly put it last time, neither of us is gettin' any younger and it wasn't exactly quick before, was it?"

"You're sure this is what you want?"

"Never more sure of anythin'."

He gently eases himself into her, "I love you."

She groans as he commences his mission, "Ditto. Bleedin' ditto."

-x-

He's taken the day off so they can celebrate their anniversary together. He's in the kitchen fixing them a late breakfast when she eventually makes it downstairs after having fed and dressed Lily and showered herself. He takes Lily from her, expertly balancing her on his hip whilst he passes her a cup of tea.

He addresses his question at his daughter, "So, what would my two favourite ladies like to do today?"

She giggles at him, "I reckon she'd like to feed, sleep, play, repeat…. same as most days. I'd like to get some exercise, perhaps we could put her in the sling and go for a long walk or somethin'. I think my cake diet is catchin' up on me."

"Sounds like a plan." He steals a quick kiss, "Although just for the record I think you look fabulous on your cake diet."

She smiles at him, "Thank you, but I think you are slightly biased… I really miss my cyclin', but not sure I've got the nerve for it anymore."

This isn't just a random thought, she has mentioned it a few times recently but hasn't actually done anything about it.

"It seems a shame to stop doing something you love, just because of an unlucky accident caused by a drunk fuckmuppet."

Of course, she knows by now, that she shouldn't be surprised that he's actually encouraging her to do something that she's avoiding, as is his nature, "I know, maybe I should get myself another bike."

He walks out of the room, returning a few moments later looking triumphant, "Excellent, you'll be needing this then. Happy anniversary."

She looks at him slightly suspiciously as she opens the large parcel, "A cycle helmet?"

"Yep. Maybe have a look in the shed to see if there is something to go with it."

She's incredulous that he basically knows her better than she knows herself, "You haven't?"

"Well, you have been going on about getting back on the bike. I just thought maybe you needed a bit of encouragement."

"Well, also for the record, I do not _go-on_ about things but thank you, this is an amazin' present."

-x-

It's later and they've spent a glorious day together. Lily is down for the night, he's cooked a delicious meal for them and they're enjoying a glass of wine in the garden, snuggled up together on the swing seat his parents had bought for them as a wedding present.

He sounds serious, "So, I've been thinking…"

She can't help but interject when she hears those words, "Oooh, Major James, that does sound dangerous."

"Oi you, I seem to remember that was my line many years ago."

She giggles, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. You've been thinkin'?..."

"I've been thinking that I'm done with overseas tours."

She turns to face him, stops giggling, recognising this is a huge decision for him, "Really, are you sure? You're ready to hang up your Bergen?"

"Yes, I think I am. I don't want to leave you like that anymore and I don't want to miss out on any day of Lily's life."

"Well, I'm not going to argue with you on that one. You know I don't mind you leavin' me, but I know I can't leave her for more than a few hours, never mind weeks or months."

"The thought just makes me miserable."

She senses there is more to this decision than he's letting on, "You wanna stay in the army though, yes?"

"I'm not even sure about that anymore."

"What would do if you left?"

"I really don't know, I have time to think about it. Maybe I could become a house husband; look after the children and the pets."

"The child _ren_ _and the pets_? A bit previous there, aren't you?"

"Well, after this morning's mission, maybe, maybe not. But seriously, you've got a long career ahead of you and you will need to travel again at some point. I could come with you on the longer trips, look after the kids while you do your thing. It would make sense for me to be the flexible one. Let's face it, we don't need my Major's salary either."

"Well, when you put it like that, it does make sense. I'd just never imagined you'd leave the army, that this is what you'd want."

"People change. I've changed. You've changed. Our lives have changed."

She leans in and gives him a tight hug and big kiss, "You know I'll support you whatever you decide… Now, about Operation Baby 2, I think we might need to do some more training exercises."

-x-


	21. Chapter 21

**So, we're nearly at the end of this story. This is the penultimate chapter. Enjoy!**

 **Wednesday 15 July 2017**

 _Malcesine, Lake Garda_

They're leaving their favourite restaurant after enjoying a leisurely and utterly delicious dinner. It's a gorgeously warm evening.

She checks her watch, "Do you think I should call and check they're ok?"

He rolls his eyes at her as he puts his arm around her and leads the way outside, "Absolutely fucking not, Dawesy. My parents are more than capable of looking after their two grandchildren for the evening."

They've paused outside the restaurant in a comfortable embrace. She smiles up at him, "You're right. Definitely one of my better ideas invitin' your parents on holiday with us."

He leans down, kisses her and whispers in her ear, "You're not just a pretty face."

His last comment earns him a gentle elbow in the ribs, "Are you callin' me pretty?"

"Ouch. Yes, pretty awesome. Mother, author... wife. I'm a pretty lucky man."

She gently pulls him towards her, giving him a loving kiss, "You're a pretty soppy sod tonight."

He responds to her kiss and they're temporarily lost to each other before he eventually pulls away, "Do you fancy a walk along the lakeside path for old times' sake or would you like to go straight back to the hotel?"

"As tempting as the hotel offer sounds, I think I could do with walkin' off some of that food."

He takes her hand, giving it a light kiss before leading them off towards the promenade, "Anyway, I'm not a soppy sod as you so delightfully put it. I'm just happy. And a little bit delirious to have to have you all to myself for the whole night and morning."

"Yes, as much as I love our children, it will be nice to not wake up tomorrow to demands for breakfast and iPad time."

He's grinning at her now, "I'll make you right there... although you may have to deal with other demands."

She gives him a cheeky smirk, "Now those I can deal with. Those I miss. There's not quite the same opportunity for those these days."

"I know. Life's been a bit crazy recently hasn't it?"

"Well, it's certainly been a period of adjustment."

"I'm not sure how you've managed it to be honest."

"It has been knackerin', and I have to admit that this holiday couldn't come around fast enough."

He suddenly sounds a bit anxious, "But you're ok with Sam coming to live with us though?"

She squeezes his hand reassuringly, "Yes. Of course, I am. I didn't mean it like that. I love havin' him with us. The timin' was just a bit off. Him arrivin' just as we found out I was pregnant. I didn't bank on this pregnancy being so different to the last. Thank goodness, the bleedin' mornin' sickness has stopped and I've got my appetite back. I've got so much more energy. Anyway, everythin' will be much better from September when he's at the local school and I don't have to do that hour long round trip twice a day."

Bones taking a five-year overseas posting has turned out to be a blessing. Initially he was devastated at the news because it meant an end to the current access arrangements and he would only get to see Sam during school holidays. However, when Sam made it very clear that he didn't want to go either, Rebecca had reluctantly agreed that it might be in his best interests to stay in the UK. Although he would need to change schools to one nearer to their house, he would soon be going to secondary school anyway, so it wasn't a huge deal. The other massive benefit of the arrangement being that he no longer has to endure Bones' regular unpleasantness to him, which hasn't lessened over time.

He's looking at her intently and seriously, "That's true, but I'm thinking you won't need to do any more school runs. I've decided I'm resigning my commission when we get back. We've been talking about it for a year. It's the right time to do it... with another baby on the way and Sam with us permanently. I want to do it. Are you okay with me being around more, getting under your feet?"

She's playing it cool, "Hmm. Let me think about that?"

"How long do you need?"

She's laughing again, "Oh, I'm done. Was just daydreamin' about all those long lie-ins I'll have when I no longer have to get up for the school run."

"Right."

"Mind you, might gonna have to come along occasionally because the school gate mums are gonna bleedin' love you. Dishy stay at home dad. Top tabloid totty. Major Posh. They're going to be linin' up to invite you to their coffee mornings."

He looks and sounds horrified, "Christ. Do you think that's how they'll see me? It's not too late for me to change my mind."

"Nah, you'll be alright. Just don't volunteer for anythin'... or else with your formidable organisational skills and leadership qualities, you'll find yourself runnin' the PTA before you know it."

"Will you let me know when you've finished teasing me?"

She's giggling, "Sorry, I'm done. Mind you, we might need some ground rules for at home though, as I will need to do some work. Can't be gettin' distracted by my handsome husband all the time."

They've reached a secluded pebble beach and he comes to a stop, pulling her in close, placing light, seductive kisses on her neck, "Ground rules... do you mean like the 'Rules of Engagement'? I enjoyed breaking those."

She's struggling to concentrate on her chain of thought, "Hmm, maybe more like orders. I seem to remember you once telling me that as a soldier you always follow orders."

"Ah, but I won't be a soldier any more. I've got years of order-following to rebel against."

"Sounds like I could be in for some trouble with you."

Once again, they're lost to each other for a few minutes, eventually pulling away for air and to cool down their passion.

She starts giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just thinkin' about the 'Rules of Engagement'….. You know there was a 4th rule too."

"Really? I can only remember three... no physical contact, no perving and no flirting. What more could you possibly have had to avoid?"

"Well, the 4th rule was instigated after we went skinny dippin'….. off one of these little beaches, if I remember rightly. I almost kissed you in the water before your clothes were nicked."

"Really? I was about to kiss you then too… Do you fancy recreating that moment?"

"What goin' skinny dippin'?"

He pulls off his shirt, "Yes."

"What if someone sees us?"

He's kicked off his shoes and is undoing his jeans, "Dawesy, there is no-one around and who cares if we are seen? I don't remember you being quite so inhibited last time."

"I seem to remember I'd drunk my body weight in booze that night. I'm stone cold sober now."

He's standing in his briefs, looking wickedly at her, "So, are you coming in?"

"You're serious?"

"Yep."

"What if your clothes get nicked again?"

"Lightening never strikes the same spot twice."

"We're not in our 20s anymore. I'm gonna be 40 soddin' years old this year."

"Exactly, too old to care. Now are you coming in voluntarily or do I need to carry you in?"

"You wouldn't dare."

She shrieks as he effortlessly lifts her up and carries her into the water, "Put me down!"

"No chance."

She's giggling, "You're in so much trouble Charles James."

He silences her giggles with more kisses, "Good."

He lowers her gently into the invitingly warm water and she wraps her arms and legs around him, hungrily responding to his kisses.

-x-

Later, they're lying in their hotel bed happy, but exhausted. The Rules of Engagement have been successfully broken once in the lake and again in the en-suite shower.

She's nestled under his arm, stroking his chest idly, "I wonder how many other times over the years we were thinkin' the same thing… you know, like at the lake?"

"Quite a few I reckon. Although maybe not that time when you stood me up in the pub on our anniversary."

She draws herself up to look at him, "I didn't stand you up."

"Yes, you did. I remember it clearly. I waited for you for hours and then couldn't get hold of you. In the end, I called your parents and persuaded them to go to your flat. I was so worried about you."

"I didn't stand you up. I arrived at the pub and saw you talkin' to some blonde, decided she must be your girlfriend and bolted. Got home, drank a bottle of vodka and passed out."

He rolls to face her, their faces inches apart, "Really, you've never told me that before!?"

"I know. I haven't thought about that in years. I wasn't in a great place then... You know, that was the day I met Dylan for the first time. Although nothin' happened with him until I met him randomly a few years later."

"I remember. You got together when I was on my second Afghan tour. You know….. I came back from that tour ready to declare my feelings for you."

"You were?"

"Yep. You met me off the train at Paddington, we went to a little cafe. I had it all planned and then we had some silly argument about who was going to share their news first and like some chivalrous idiot I insisted you went first... you told me you were happy and in a serious relationship with Dylan. I lost it for a while after that."

"I couldn't understand at the time just why you had such a problem with me bein' in a relationship."

"I was insane with jealousy. Elvis had to have serious words with me at his wedding after I nearly fucked everything up."

"And then you went back on tour and when you came back, made it your mission to shag your way through the young, blonde female population of Southern England."

He looks suitably chastised, "Not my finest time... and then I met Rebecca and it all really went to shit."

She gives him a wistful smile, "Yes, for a while until we found each other again."

He strokes her cheek, "You know I wrote to you when we were out of contact."

"Really?"

"Yes, I still have the letters."

"I wrote to you too... I also still have the letters."

"Maybe I could read them sometime."

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."

He leans in to kiss her, "Are we still talking about the letters?"

-x-


	22. Chapter 22

**Thursday 15 July 2018**

 _Edinburgh_

They're asleep in their usual close contact spooning position, only using a fraction of the enormous hotel bed.

He's awoken by their eldest daughter squirming her way into the tiny gap between them.

"Me want Daddy cuddle."

He shifts his position to give her some space, gives her a cuddle and a kiss, "Morning, Lily."

Since the arrival of her baby sister, a little over six months ago, he is very much in demand and most definitely the favoured parent of Lily. It's not to say that she's taken the addition of another sibling badly, but at two and a half is in the midst of the terrible twos which has not been helped by the realisation that she now has to share her mother's affections. She has also figured out that, of her two parents, her daddy is by far the softer-touch and even at such a tender age is able to completely wrap him around her little finger.

He checks the time, groans seeing that it has a five in it. He tucks her under his arm, "Right, back to sleep, Lily. It is too early to get up. We don't want to wake Mummy and Flo."

He gently strokes her head until he can tell by her breathing that she's dozed back off to sleep.

Although he's used to early starts from all his years in the Army, since leaving he's quickly got into the habit of spending a bit longer in bed in the morning. He makes no effort to discourage the requests for early morning cuddles from his daughter, and makes no apologies for cherishing something he totally missed out on with Sam when he was this age. He knows however that on occasion he's guilty of indulging his children, especially Lily; something which Molly has, completely fairly and accurately, warned him will come back to bite him if he's not careful.

He looks over at her sleeping form in the bed, protectively cocooning around their youngest daughter, smiles contentedly and closes his eyes, before drifting back off to sleep.

-x-

They're sat in the fancy hotel restaurant, enjoying an extravagant, if slightly noisy, family breakfast.

He reaches over and taps his son on his arm, "Sam, could you remove your headphones for five minutes so that we can discuss the plans for the day?"

Sam looks at him questioningly, speaking loudly, "Did you say something Dad?"

He lifts the ear of Sam's headphones, speaking into his ear, "I said could you remove your headphones for five minutes so that we can discuss the plans for the day."

Sam begrudgingly removes the headphones, "Thought we were here to see Molly dressed in a funny cape and hat getting an _Honorary Degree….a Doctor of Letters,_ whatever that is."

"Yes, thank you Sam, we are….. but the ceremony at the University isn't until 3pm, so we thought we might show you around the city this morning. This is where Molly and I first met."

Sam thinks about this for a few seconds and with perfect timing replies, "Hmm. Sounds a bit shit."

She almost spits out her tea, trying to contain her giggles at Sam's use of that particular expression. She finds it genuinely fascinating observing 10 year-old Sam pushing the boundaries with his father. Whilst he's still a great kid, the honeymoon period of him living with them is most definitely over and a pre-teen attitude is very much in evidence.

She reflects, not for the first time, that whilst he's a wonderful father in almost every respect, the one thing he really struggles with is disciplining their children when they need it. She finds this rather surprisingly given his Army background, but also suspects it's a conscious decision he's made to never treat them like squaddies and that it stems from the guilt she knows he still feels over missing Sam's early years. It's not that their children need lots of disciplining, but she knows from growing up in a large family and from her teaching days that children are generally happier when they understand the family's boundaries and when these are consistently applied. It's the only real contentious area in their parenting, but in her opinion, he is far too soft with them at times and hasn't yet found the right balance.

He attempts to give Sam one of his stern faces, "I'll pretend I didn't hear that Sam."

"I mean, are you going to drag us around a load of boring old buildings? Can't we do something fun… like go to the Zoo?"

"Daddy, Lily want go Zoo."

He attempts to pacify his daughter, hoping to avoid a tantrum, "Lily, we won't have time to go to the Zoo today, but we can go tomorrow."

Lily repeats her demand a little more loudly, tugging on his sleeve to emphasise her point, "Lily want go Zoo… today."

Sensing his dad is losing control of the situation, Sam can't resist fuelling the fire, mimicking his little step-sister, "Yeah Dad. Sam and Lily want go Zoo…. today"

He's aware he is being ganged up on by his two eldest children, and that this is exactly what she has been warning him about. He looks pleadingly to her for support, but she gives him one of her "I told you so" faces before looking away and attempting to stifle her giggles by suddenly becoming very interested in encouraging Flo to actually eat some of her breakfast, rather than dropping it on the floor.

He tries again to regain some semblance of control, "No Sam, as I just explained, we don't have time to go to the Zoo today….. Can everyone please stop mentioning the bloody Zoo."

At the mention of the word 'zoo', Lily is now shouting, "Lily. Want. Go. Bloody. Zoo."

This outburst and the horrified look on his face causes her to lose it completely and she's crying with laughter.

He feels committed to the path of sternness he's chosen, but can also see the funny side of the situation he's brought upon himself. There is a lot of humour and a little bit of desperation in his voice as he speaks, "Molly, when you've finished pissing yourself, I could do with some help here."

She takes a deep breath, winks at her step-son and smiles sweetly at her husband, "Sammy, stop winding your Dad up…. That's my job."

She gives Lily a 'don't mess with mummy' look which has the desired effect and instantly stops the shouting and carrying on.

He smiles at her gratefully, mouthing a silent, 'thank you'. A less secure man might feel his ego wounded by this episode, but not him. He is one hundred percent confident in his relationship with this brilliant, beautiful woman who he is lucky enough to have as his best friend, wife and mother of his children.

-x-

They've made it out of the hotel and are strolling along the Royal Mile, happily holding hands. Flo is sleeping peacefully in a sling on her chest, Lily is insisting on walking at her own pace holding his other hand, whilst Sam is following behind them at a respectable distance.

Sam is suddenly shouting to them, "Molly. Dad. What's that hill?"

She looks up towards where Sam is pointing, "That's Salisbury Crags. Leads up to Arthur's Seat."

"There's people up there!"

He joins in, 'You can climb it. It isn't hard."

"Can we go up it?"

She smiles at her husband, remembering the last time they went up there, "Sure Sammie, why not."

They head for Holyrood Park. The walk up the steep path is painfully slow until he scoops Lily up onto his shoulders. Sam is having a great time scrabbling over rocks as they get near to the plateau at the top and the stone column which marks the highest point.

He lifts Lily down and she takes her hand, giving her a snack and guiding her to sit down on one of the nearby rocks, allowing him some time alone with Sam.

He knowledgeably points out, to a now interested Sam, the landmarks, "That's the castle, near the hotel. There's the station. That's the Firth of Forth, leading out into the North Sea. Norway's over there somewhere. That's the New Town, where I used to live. Down there is where Molly's flat was on Rankeillor Street. Twenty years ago, Sam. Last century."

She watches on, admiring her handsome husband, her heart bursting with love for the man she is lucky enough to have as her best friend, husband and father of her children.

She joins them, slipping an arm around his waist, suddenly hit by a memory of standing in this exact same spot all those years ago. He wraps a protective arm around her shoulders. She looks up and can tell by the far-away look in his eyes that he's also thinking about that day, the day they first met, the day it all began. He tenderly kisses the top of her head, whispering to her, "I'm so glad we found each other. I love you so much."

She tightens her hold of his waist, leaning her head into his chest. There is only one response, "Ditto."

 **So, here we are. Turns out that I lied and this is not the final chapter! This is the final chapter in the present. There will be one more which will tell the story of the rest of their first day together. x**


	23. Chapter 23

**This chapter follows directly on from the very first chapter of the story, so if you can't remember that maybe have a quick read before proceeding.**

 **15 July 1998**

 _Edinburgh_

"Ok. But only if you promise to tell me how you're going to 'change the world'."

He throws back the duvet and hauls himself out of bed, casually looking around for his discarded clothes, seemingly unconcerned by being stark bollock naked in her presence.

She can't help but sneak one last regretful look at his gorgeous body before she averts her eyes and nervously busies herself with searching for his remaining clothes. He really is ridiculously good looking, almost certainly the most handsome man she has ever met, let alone kissed and not quite managed to sleep with.

He locates his boxers and trousers and balances on the edge of the bed, before pulling them on.

She spots his white shirt and jacket near the doorway and as she passes them to him, their eyes meet for a moment before she looks away in embarrassment and scurries back to the relative safety of the other side of the room. He must be thinking that there is something seriously wrong with her; they were so close to doing it last night before she ran away to the toilet, then she went cold on him this morning when he tried again and now she can't even look him in the eye or be close to him. The truth is that she would do anything for another chance to kiss him.

He stands up and approaches where she is hovering. She thinks for a moment that he's going to kiss her, and she raises her head in anticipation. At the last moment, he ducks to the side and retrieves his socks and shoes from behind where she is standing with a triumphant, "Socks! Shoes!"

She can't help but feel disappointed, "Oh yes, socks and shoes."

He looks into the mirror on the back of her bedroom door, runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame his unruly curls and turns around to face her, "Right, that's me ready."

As she looks at him, she has a moment of clarity. Whatever didn't happen last night was only ever going to be a one night stand, fuelled by the euphoria of the day and too much booze. They don't belong together. Someone like him is never going to be interested in a relationship with someone like her. She decides to give him an out and put a stop to the charade, "We don't have to do somethin' if you'd rather just go."

He stops, a frown coming over his face and he visibly tenses. He stares at her questioningly, "Do you want me to go?"

She hesitates and looks at the ground. She knows if she says yes that he will respect her wishes and leave. After a few moments, she shyly looks up at him, still disbelieving of the situation, but knows her answer, "No."

He relaxes and gives her a broad smile, "Well then, that's decided. Excellent. We're going to spend the day together. Now, have you been up Arthur's Seat before? The views over the City are wonderful."

She sheepishly shakes her head, "Nah… I don't really do hills."

He's grinning at her as he puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her towards the door, "Dawesy, how can you have lived in Edinburgh for four years and never have been up there?"

She feels stupid and wonders what exactly she has been doing with her time at University, other than working bleeding hard to get her degree, "I dunno."

He sounds boyishly enthusiastic, "Well, it is the perfect day for it."

"I don't do perfect."

-x-

Armed with a rug and picnic supplies, they are making their way up the steep path towards Arthur's Seat. She's struggling to keep up with him, "Can we slow down a bit? You've got bleedin' long legs, you know that?"

He grins at her as he slows his pace, "Sorry. Is that better?"

"Yes, I think I've let my fitness go recently."

He raises his eyebrow, "Really? What _sport_ do you normally do to keep fit?"

She's caught out as she doesn't do any sport and doesn't really know why she just pretended that she did. Actually, that is also a lie, because she knows exactly why she said it. She knows he is sporty and is trying to impress him, "Well, you know. A bit of this, a bit of that."

He regards her sceptically, "Right. Like…. Swimming? Running? Cycling?"

Her words come out crosser and more defensive than she means, "Ok. Ok. I don't do any sport. I grew up in the East End. I didn't have the luxury of private swimming lessons, my school didn't have playing fields so 'cross country' wasn't an option and you only ride a bike in London if you have a death wish or are a drug dealer. I'm not really an outdoorsy, sporty type, ok? It doesn't make me a bad person."

He's taken aback by her reaction, "Hey, sorry. I was only teasing. It doesn't matter to me where you grew up or whether you're sporty or not."

They continue up the path in silence. She's annoyed with herself for being so aggressive when she'd got herself into that situation by pretending to be someone she wasn't. She's seriously contemplating whether she should just turn around and head back down.

Eventually they reach the plateau of the summit where a column marks the highest point. Thankfully, she instantly forgets her bad mood as soon as she sees the view, "Wow, I had no idea you'd be able to see so far!"

He tentatively puts his arm around her shoulders, as he points out some of the landmarks, "It's amazing isn't it? That's the castle, there's the station. That's the Firth of Forth, leading out to the North Sea. Norway's over there somewhere."

She looks up at him, "Impressive knowledge. Did you actually swallow the tourist guide?"

He lets go of her shoulder, suddenly less confident and sure of himself, feeling as though he has been caught out showing off, "Sorry. I just thought…."

She instantly regrets the loss of his touch, "Hey, sorry. I was only teasin'. I am interested. Tell me some more."

-x-

They've found a sheltered spot to lay out the blanket and their picnic. They've got over their earlier misunderstandings and fuelled by more alcohol are joking and chatting, sharing more information about themselves.

"So Dawesy, we've established you're not sporty, so what do you like doing?"

She gives him a joking, warning look, "Well, actually I like writin'. Fiction mostly. I've had quite a few pieces published in the University literary journal. I'm hopin' to become a published author one day."

"That's brilliant…. although, I'm a tad ashamed to admit that I've never quite got around to reading the University literary journal."

She raises her eyebrow at him and mimicks his earlier incredulity, "How can you have studied English Literature for four years and never read the University literary journal?"

It is his turn to look sheepish, "I don't know. Too busy playing sport, and playing soldiers I guess."

"What do you mean, playin' soldiers?"

His face lights up as he starts talking, "University Officers' Training Corps. I'm joining the Army in May next year, Sandhurst. It's all I've ever wanted."

"Oh."

"I really wanted to join in September, but my parents are insisting on me taking some time out before I start. I think they're hoping I'll change my mind. I'm off to India soon for a month of travelling and then doing six months VSO in a refugee camp in Africa."

She's overawed at the mention of the travelling and volunteering he's casually talking about. It's not the sort of thing that people from where she comes from do, but it sounds so natural coming from him. It's another example of just how different they are, but she's determined to not react badly again, "Wow, that sounds amazin'. You're lucky to have that opportunity."

He contemplates what she's just said, realising that he's not really considered it in that way before and suddenly feels rather spoilt. "Yes, you're right. I am lucky. What about you? Where do you go next?"

She pauses, knowing her plan sounds pretty boring in comparison, "I'm plannin' on stayin' in Edinburgh and doin' some writin'."

Something about the way he's looking at her makes her continue, revealing more information than she had planned, "There's not much space at home and I don't really get on that well with my parents. They don't really see the point of University. Didn't even come to my graduation. They think I'm wasting my time and should have a job by now."

He's quite startled by this admission. Up until now, he's viewed his parent's involvement in his life as interfering, but he realises that the alternative could look like this, "Shit. That sounds difficult."

"It's ok. I'm used to it. I've learnt to not expect anythin' from them. Then I can't be disappointed."

He senses that this is a challenging subject for her, and not wanting to bring her good mood down, he moves onto lighter territory, "So, I hope you will still have time for your old University friends when you're a famous author."

She doesn't miss the hint of a shared future in his words, but doesn't dare acknowledge the prospect, "I'm not bothered about the fame, but I'd like to bring joy to people through my writin'."

"I'm sure you will."

-x-

At some point in the mid-afternoon, the previous night and the day's drinking catches up with them. As if by some mutual agreement, they both doze off in the warm sun, lying beside each other but carefully not touching.

He awakes with a start, realising that in his sleep he's somehow manoeuvred into a position where he is spooning her, with a protective arm wrapped around her middle. Her small body fits perfectly along with his and it feels like they belong together. He raises himself up onto his elbow and takes a moment to watch her as she sleeps. He gently pushes a stray hair away from her face, bends his head down, taking in the sweet smell of her shampoo and places a light kiss on her cheek. He feels his desire for her growing again, not just purely physical desire to consummate what they started a little more than 12 hours ago, but a desire to become a part of her life.

He regretfully rolls away from her, takes a few deep breathes, knowing that if they weren't in a public place, he wouldn't have been able to stop there.

He checks the time and sits up bolt upright. 17:00. Shit. His parents are due at his flat at 18:30, to take him out for a celebratory dinner. He desperately needs more time with her. A plan starts to form in his head. If they leave now, they can be back at his place in 30 minutes. He can call his parents, rearrange the plans, put them off until later, maybe even tomorrow.

He quickly gathers up the remains of the picnic, kneels down beside her and gently shakes her, "Dawesy, wake-up."

She opens her eyes, groggy with sleep, slowly sitting up, "Shittin' hell. How long have I been asleep?"

"A couple of hours. We both were. I'm really sorry, but I need to get back as I'm expecting my parents this evening."

She's unable to hide her disappointment, "Oh right. I should be gettin' back too."

"Well, I was thinking if we went back to my place I could call them and put them off. We could spend a bit longer together."

She smiles shyly at him, "I'd like that."

He offers her a hand and pulls her to standing, "Excellent. Let's go then."

-x-

He's holding her hand, leading the way towards his flat in New Town. He's trying to keep the pace comfortable for her, conscious of their differing stride lengths but despite this, they're both walking so fast that they're practically running.

They turn the corner into his street and he stops dead, dropping her hand in the process, "Fuck."

He runs his hand through his hair, pulling at the short curls at the top of his neck, "Fuck."

She follows his eyes and sees a well-dressed middle-aged couple stood next to a smart looking car. She surmises from their appearance and his reaction, that they must be his parents. She can see that his mother is stunningly beautiful and incredibly stylish, whilst his father is a very good-looking older man. She can now understand where his ridiculous good looks come from. They couldn't be more different to her own scruffy, old-before-their-time, parents. She looks down at her own outfit and feels underdressed and incredibly self-conscious.

As they approach, his mother is eagerly waving at them, whilst his father is looking mildly annoyed.

His mother's voice is warmer than she expects, "Charles! Darling! There you are! Where have you been?"

He steps forward and gives his mother a hug and a kiss, "Hi, Mum."

He turns to shake his father's hand, "Dad."

His father sounds brusque, "We've been waiting for you the bloody doorstep for the last 30 minutes."

He looks at them both unapologetically, "You're early."

His mum stares at him with a suspicious and mischievous glint in her eye, "Have we interrupted something darling? …. Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?"

His father looks at him disapprovingly, "What's happened to your manners, Charles? Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"

"Shit….. sorry. Mum, dad, this is my….. friend, Molly Dawes. Molly, my parents, Elizabeth and Edward."

She feels completely intimidated, but manages to speak, "Hi, nice to meet you…. Sorry, you've been waitin' on the doorstep. We fell asleep."

She stops as she realises what she's just said and can feel a blush rising up her neck. She looks at the ground in embarrassment, wishing it would swallow her up, missing the raised eyebrows and knowing smiles which pass between his parents.

His father grabs her hand shaking it firmly, causing her to look up as he gives her a warm and kind smile, his annoyance having seemingly disappeared, "Lovely to meet you Molly. We're taking our errant son to dinner. Would you like to join us?"

She appreciates his gesture but knows there is no way she can join their dinner. They will be going somewhere fancy and she is most definitely not dressed appropriately. She can't face the inevitable questions about her family, where she went to school and what sports she enjoys playing, "Thank you, but actually, I'd better head back."

He's aware of the disappointment in his voice, "Are you sure?"

She attempts to sound nonchalant, "Yeah. Things to do. Books to write. You go on. I'll see you around, maybe."

He's frowning, wondering what the fuck has just happened, "Oh, right."

She smiles and gives a brief wave, "Bye."

He's left watching in stunned disbelief as she turns and starts walking, "Bye."

She walks away, resisting every urge to turn around and look at him one last time, cursing her lack of confidence and all-round shitting bad luck. She tells herself that it is probably for the best that it ends here. It's impossible to imagine there could be anything between them. It would never work, they're just too different.

She's almost home when she hears the sound of running footsteps behind her, and his breathless shouting "Dawesy, stop! I thought I'd lost you!"

She turns around, smiling, her heart in danger of bursting, "Looks like you found me."

He bends over catching his breath for a few seconds before he takes her by the arms and holds her, staring at her intently, his words tumbling out, "Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting my parents until later and then they turned up out of the blue, I got distracted, and I suddenly realised that I didn't have any way to get in touch with you."

He pulls a pen from his pocket and takes her hand, turning it over so that her palm is facing up. He gently pushes up the sleeve of her denim jacket exposing the delicate skin of her forearm, on which he starts writing his parent's phone number and address in beautiful handwriting.

"This is me. I'm away in India until the end of August, but then I'm back and I thought you might like to come down and stay maybe?"

She looks into his eyes, "Stay with you?"

He's smiling, "Not forever. For a weekend. At mine, well my parents in Bath I mean. Only if you want to?"

"Hmm. Sounds a bit shit."

He's laughing, "No, it's magical. Especially at Christmas."

She's giggling, "You invitin' me for Christmas too?"

He's no longer laughing, but trying to convey his seriousness, "No, I'll be in Africa then, but maybe one day, yes."

She takes the pen from him and takes his hand reciprocating his actions, carefully writing her contact details on his arm. "Here, this is my number and address here, and my parent's number and address in London."

He's still serious, "Ok. Promise me you'll call me, or I'll call you, but one of us will call, yes?"

"Yes, yes. I promise."

He sounds wistful, "So, I should get back. Are you sure you won't come for dinner?"

She shakes her head, "I don't think I should."

"No, I don't think you should either."

She's surprised and a little bit disappointed that he hasn't tried harder to persuade her, "Oh. Right. Why's that?"

He places his hands on her hips and pulls her close, "Because I think if you did, I'd go a bit mad. With frustration, I mean. You sitting there."

She slips her arms around his waist, "What you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me?"

"Nope."

He cups her face in his hands, leans down and kisses her. It is the most tender, sweetest kiss that either of them has ever known.

Eventually they pull apart and she slowly backs away from him, "So, I'll see you around?"

He grins at her, "I bloody hope so, Dawesy."

She grins in return, "I had a great time today."

"Ditto."

"Goodbye Charles"

"Goodbye Molly."

THE END

 **Ok. That really is it!**

 **Thank you for reading and for all your wonderful review comments. Please feel free to leave me one last comment, it's good for my ego ;-)**

 **I love writing about these two and I've loved writing this story. I hope to be back soon with another one. x**


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